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HERO TALES & LEGENDS 

OF THE RHINE 










■ , 

• 












































































































































. 




• » 








. r 






. V 










Fr. 


Odin and Brunhild 

(page 270) 

Ferd. Lecke 







HERO TALES &• LEGENDS 

OF THE RHINE 

<by 

LEWIS SPENCE F.R.A.I. 

ii 

AUTHOR OF “THE MYTHS OF MEXICO AND PERU ” “THE MYTHS OF 
THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS ” “THE CIVILIZATION 
OF ANCIENT MEXICO ” ETC. ETC. 


WITH SIXTEEN COLLOTYPES AFTER 
DRAWINGS BY 

LT. LOUIS WEIRTER R.B.A. 


AND SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS 
IN COLOUR 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 





GUi 

Publisher 

mi n m 



PRINTED AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS 
LONDON ENGLAND 



INTRODUCTION 


J abundance of literature exists on the subject of the 



Rhine and its legends, but with few exceptions 


1 the works on it which are accessible to English- 
speaking peoples are antiquated in spirit and verbiage, 
and their authors have been content to accept the first 
version of such legends and traditions as came their way 
without submitting them to any critical examination. It 
is claimed for this book that much of its matter was 
collected on the spot, or that at least most of the tales 
here presented were perused in other works at the scene of 
the occurrences related. This volume is thus something 
more than a mere compilation, and when it is further 
stated that only the most characteristic and original 
versions and variants of the many tales here given 
have gained admittance to the collection, its value will 
become apparent. 

It is, of course, no easy task to infuse a spirit of origi¬ 
nality into matter which has already achieved such a 
measure of celebrity as have these wild and wondrous 
tales of Rhineland. But it is hoped that the treatment to 
which these stories have been subjected is not without a 
novelty of its own. One circumstance may be alluded to 
as characteristic of the manner of their treatment in this 
work. In most English books on Rhine legend the tales 
themselves are presented in a form so brief, succinct, and 
uninspiring as to rob them entirely of that mysterious 
glamour lacking which they become mere material by 
which to add to and illustrate the guide-book. The 
absence of the romantic spirit in most English and 
American compilations dealing with the Rhine legends 
is noteworthy, and in writing this book the author’s 
intention has been to supply this striking defect by 


v 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

retaining as much of the atmosphere of mystery so dear 
to the German heart as will convey to the English- 
speaking reader a true conception of the spirit of German 
legend. 

But it is not contended that because greater space and 
freedom of narrative scope than is usual has been taken 
by the author the volume would not prove itself an accept¬ 
able companion upon a voyage on Rhine waters under¬ 
taken in holiday times of peace. Indeed, every attempt 
has been made so to arrange the legends that they will 
illustrate a Rhine journey from sea to source—the manner 
in which the majority of visitors to Germany will make 
the voyage—and to this end the tales have been marshalled 
in such form that a reader sitting on the deck of a Rhine 
steamer may be able to peruse the legends relating to the 
various localities in their proper order as he passes them. 
There are included, however, several tales relating to 
places which cannot be viewed from the deck of a steamer, 
but which may be visited at the cost of a short inland ex¬ 
cursion. These are such as from their celebrity could not 
be omitted from any work on the legends of Rhineland, 
but they are few in number. 

The historical development, folklore, poetry, and art of 
the Rhine-country have been dealt with in a special intro¬ 
ductory chapter. The history of the Rhine basin is a com¬ 
plicated and uneven one, chiefly consisting in the rapid and 
perplexing rise and fall of dynasties and the alternate con¬ 
fiscation of one or both banks of the devoted stream to the 
empires of France or Germany. But the evolution of a 
reasoned narrative has been attempted from this chaotic 
material, and, so far as the author is aware, it is the only 
one existing in English. The folklore and romance 
elements in Rhine legend have been carefully examined, 
vi 


Introduction 

and the best poetic material upon the storied river has 
been critically collected and reviewed. 

To those who may one day visit the Rhine it is hoped 
that the volume may afford a suitable introduction to a 
fascinating field of travel, while to such as have already 
viewed its glories it may serve to renew old associa¬ 
tions and awaken cherished memories of a river without 
peer or parallel in its wealth of story, its boundless 
mystery, and the hold which it has exercised upon all 
who have lingered by the hero-trodden paths that wind 
among its mysterious promontories and song-haunted 
strands. 

L. S. 


Vll 











r 


* 



I 


\ 











y) 










CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I TOPOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL i 

II THE RHINE IN FOLKLORE AND LITERATURE 59 

III CLEVES TO THE LOWENBURG 92 

IV DRACHENFELS TO RHEINSTEIN 152 

V FALKENBURG TO AUERBACH 201 

VI WORMS AND THE NIBELUNGENLIED 258 

VII HEIDELBERG TO SACKINGEN 321 

GLOSSARY AND INDEX 357 

MAP OF THE RHINE VALLEY at end 


IX 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing 

page 

Frontispiece 

Odin and Brunhild 

He rose abruptly and left the Room 

$ 

Sebile and Baldwin 

3° 

The Courtyard, Heidelberg Castle 

44 

Oppenheim Abbey 

52 

The Lorelei 

60 

Venus and Tannhauser 

78 

Count Siegfried discovers his Wife and Child 

H 

The Castle of Cleves 

92 

Lohengrin overcomes Telramund 

96 

Cologne Cathedral 

104 

The Burgomaster and the Lion 

116 

Aix-la-Chapelle 

128 

The Kreuzberg, Bonn 

134 

The Drachenfels 

152 

SCHLOSS LaHNECK 

158 

Stolzenfels 

164 

She rushed to him and was clasped in his Arms 

182 

ScHLOSS SoONECK 

192 

Rheinstein 

198 * 

The Mouse Tower, near Bingen 

206 

Rheingrafenstein 

212 

The Fiddler and the Statue 

228' 

Eppstein 

242' 

The Market and Cathedral, Worms 

260' 

He was greeted with Joyful Shouts 

254 

The Funeral of Siegfried 

282 


xi 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Facing 

page 


Sigurd is instructed by the Birds 3°°* 

Walthar kept them at Bay 3 1 8 

The Jester of Heidelberg 3 2 4' 

A Grey Hen fluttered toward her 33°' 

:Strassburg Cathedral, from the old Pig Market 34 2 ‘ 


Xll 


CHAPTER I : TOPOGRAPHICAL 
AND HISTORICAL 

T HERE are many rivers whose celebrity is of much 
greater antiquity than that of the Rhine. The 
Nile and the Ganges are intimately associated 
with the early history of civilization and the mysterious 
beginnings of wisdom ; the Tiber is eloquent of that 
vanished Empire which was the first to carry the torch of 
advancement into the dark places of barbarian Europe; 
the name of the Jordan is sacred to thousands as that first 
heard in infancy and linked with lives and memories 
divine. But, universal as is the fame of these rivers, none 
of them has awakened in the breasts of the dwellers on 
their banks such a fervent devotion, such intense en¬ 
thusiasm, or such a powerful patriotic appeal as has the 
Rhine, at once the river, the frontier, and the palladium 
of the German folk. 

The Magic of the Rhine 

But the appeal is wider, for the Rhine is peculiarly the 
home of a legendary mysticism almost unique. Those 
whose lives are spent in their creation and interpretation 
know that song and legend have a particular affinity for 
water. Hogg, the friend of Shelley, was wont to tell how 
the bright eyes of his comrade would dilate at the sight of 
even a puddle by the roadside. Has water a hypnotic 
attraction for certain minds ? Be that as it may, there has 
crystallized round the great waterways of the world a 
traditionary lore which preserves the thought and feeling 
of the past, and retains many a circumstance of wonder 
and marvel from olden epochs which the modern world 
could ill have spared. 

Varied and valuable as are the traditional tales of other 
A i 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

streams, none possess that colour of intensity and mystery, 
that spell of ancient profundity which belong to the legends 
of the Rhine. In perusing these we feel our very souls 
plunged in darkness as that of the carven gloom of some 
Gothic cathedral or the Cimmerian depths of some ancient 
forest unpierced by sun-shafts. It is the Teutonic mystery 
which has us in its grip, a thing as readily recognizable 
as the Celtic glamour or the Egyptian gloom—a thing of 
the shadows of eld, stern, ancient, of a ponderous fantasy, 
instinct with the spirit of nature, of dwarfs, elves, kobolds, 
erlkings, the wraiths and shades of forest and flood, of 
mountain and mere, of castled height and swift whirlpool, 
the denizens of the deep valleys and mines, the bergs and 
heaths of this great province of romance, this rich satrapy 
of Faery. 

A Land of Legend 

Nowhere is legend so thickly strewn as on the banks of 
the Rhine. Each step is eloquent of tradition, each town, 
village, and valley. No hill, no castle but has its story, 
true or legendary. The Teuton is easily the world’s master 
in the art of conserving local lore. As one speeds down 
the broad breast of this wondrous river, gay with summer 
and flushed with the laughter of early vineyards, so close is 
the network of legend that the swiftly read or spoken tale 
of one locality is scarce over ere the traveller is confronted 
by another. It is a surfeit of romance, an inexhaustible 
hoard of the matter of marvel. 

This noble stream with its wealth of tradition has made 
such a powerful impression upon the national imagination 
that it has become intimate in the soul of the people 
and commands a reverence and affection which is not 
given by any other modem nation to its greatest and 
2 


The Song of the Iron Chancellor 

most characteristic river. The Englishman has only 
a mitigated pride in the Thames, as a great com¬ 
mercial asset or, its metropolitan borders once passed, 
a river of peculiarly restful character ; the Frenchman 
evinces no very great enthusiasm toward the Seine; and 
if there are many Spanish songs about the “ chainless 
Guadalquivir,” the dons have been content to retain its 
Arabic name. But what German heart does not thrill at 
the name of the Rhine ? What German cheek does not 
flush at the sound of that mighty thunder-hymn which 
tells of his determination to preserve the river of his fathers 
at the cost of his best blood ? Nay, what man of patriotic 
temperament but feels a responsive chord awake within 
him at the thought of that majestic song, so stern, so strong, 
“ clad in armour,” vibrant with the clang of swords, 
instinct with the universal accord of a united people ? To 
those who have heard it sung by multitudinous voices to 
the accompaniment of golden harps and silver trumpets it 
is a thing which can never be forgotten, this world-song 
that is at once a hymn of union, a song of the deepest love 
of country, a defiance and an intimation of resistance to 
the death. 

The Song of the ‘ Iron Chancellor ’ 

How potent Die Wacht am Rhein is to stir the hearts 
of the children of the Fatherland is proven abundantly by 
an apposite story regarding the great Bismarck, the ‘ man 
of blood and iron.’ The scene is the German Reichstag, 
and the time is that curious juncture in history when the 
Germans, having realized that union is strength, were 
beginning to weld together the petty kingdoms and 
duchies of which their mighty empire was once com¬ 
posed. Gradually this task was becoming accomplished, 

3 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

and meanwhile Germany grew eager to assert her power 
in Europe, wherefore her rulers commenced to create a 
vast army. But Bismarck was not satisfied, and in his 
eyes Germany’s safety was still unassured; so he appealed 
to the Reichstag to augment largely their armaments. 
The deputies looked at him askance, for a vast army 
meant ruinous taxation; even von Moltke and von Roon 
shook their heads, well aware though they were that a 
great European conflict might break out at any time; and, 
in short, Bismarck’s proposal was met by a determined 
negative from the whole House. “ Ac/i, mein Gott /” 
he cried, holding out his hands in a superb gesture of 
despair. “ Ach, mein Gott! but these soldiers we must 
have.” His hearers still demurred, reminding him that 
the people far and near were groaning under the weight of 
taxation, and assuring him that this could not possibly 
be increased, when he suddenly changed his despairing 
gesture for a martial attitude, and with sublime eloquence 
recited the lines: 

“ Es braust ein Ruf wie Donnerhall, 

Wie Schwertgeklirr und Wogenprall; 

Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutschen Rhein, 

Wer will die Stromes Hiiter sein ? 

Lieb Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, 

Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein.” 

The effect was magical; the entire House resounded with 
cheers, and the most unbounded enthusiasm prevailed. 
And ere the members dispersed they had told Bismarck 
he might have, not ten thousand, but a hundred thousand 
soldiers, such was the power of association awakened by 
this famous hymn, such the spell it is capable of exer¬ 
cising on German hearers. 


4 


Topography of the Rhine 


Topography of the Rhine 

Ere we set sail upon the dark sea of legend before us it 
is necessary that, like prudent mariners, we should know 
whence and whither we are faring. To this end it will 
be well that we should glance briefly at the topography 
of the great river we are about to explore, and that we 
should sketch rapidly the most salient occurrences in the 
strange and varied pageant of its history, in order that 
we may the better appreciate the wondrous tales of world¬ 
wide renown which have found birth on its banks. 
Although the most German of rivers, the Rhine does not 
run its entire course through German territory, but takes 
its rise in Switzerland and finds the sea in Holland. For 
no less than 233 miles it flows through Swiss country, 
rising in the mountains of the canton of Grisons, and 
irrigates every canton of the Alpine republic save that of 
Geneva. Indeed, it waters over 14,000 square miles of 
Swiss territory in the flow of its two main branches, the 
Nearer Rhine and the Farther Rhine, which unite at 
Reichenau, near Coire. The Nearer Rhine issues at the 
height of over 7000 feet from the glaciers of the Rhein- 
waldhorn group, and flows for some thirty-five miles, first in 
a north-easterly direction through the Rheinwald Valley, 
then northward through the Schams Valley, by way of the 
Via Mala gorge, and Tomleschg Valley, and so to Reiche¬ 
nau, where it is joined by its sister stream, the Farther 
Rhine. The latter, rising in the little Alpine lake of Toma 
near the Pass of St. Gotthard, flows in a north-easterly 
direction to Reichenau. The Nearer Rhine is generally 
considered to be the more important branch, though the 
Farther Rhine is the longer by some seven miles. From 
Reichenau the Rhine flows north-eastward to Coire, and 

5 


Hero Tales &F Legends of the Rhine 

thence northward to the Lake of Constance, receiving on 
its way two tributaries, the Landquart and the Ill, both 
on the right bank. Indeed, from source to sea the Rhine 
receives a vast number of tributaries, amounting, with 
their branches, to over 12,000. Leaving the Lake of 
Constance at the town of that name, the river flows west¬ 
ward to Basel, having as the principal towns on its 
banks Constance, Schaffhausen, Waldshut, Laufenburg, 
Sackingen, Rheinfelden, and Basel. 

Not far from the town of SchafFhausen the river precipitates 
itself from a height of 60 feet, in three leaps, forming the 
famous Falls of the Rhine. At Coblentz a strange thing 
happens, for at this place the river receives the waters 
of the Aar, swollen by the Reuss and the Limmat, and 
of greater volume than the stream in which it loses 
itself. 

It is at Basel that the Rhine, taking a northward trend, 
enters Germany. By this time it has made a descent of 
nearly 7000 feet, and has traversed about a third of its 
course. Between Basel and Mainz it flows between the 
mountains of the Black Forest and the Vosges, the 
distance between which forms a shallow valley of some 
width. Here and there it is islanded, and its expanse 
averages about 1200 feet. The Taunus Mountains divert 
it at Mainz, where it widens, and it flows westward for 
about twenty miles, but at Bingen it once more takes its 
course northward, and enters a narrow valley where the 
enclosing hills look down sheer upon the water. 

It is in this valley, probably one of the most romantic in 
the world, that we find the legendary lore of the river 
packed in such richness that every foot of its banks has 
its place in tradition. But that is not to say that this 
portion of the Rhine is wanting in natural beauty. Here 
6 


The Sunken City 

are situated some of its sunniest vineyards, its most wildly 
romantic heights, and its most picturesque ruins. This 
part of its course may be said to end at the Siebengebirge, 
or 4 Seven Mountains,’ where the river again widens and 
the banks become more bare and uninteresting. Passing 
Bonn and Cologne, the bareness of the landscape is re¬ 
markable after the variety of that from which we have 
just emerged, and henceforward the river takes on what 
may be called a ‘ Dutch 9 appearance. After entering 
Holland it divides into two branches, the Waal flowing 
to the west and uniting with the Maas. The smaller 
branch to the right is still called the Rhine, and throws 
off another branch, the Yssel, which flows into the 
Zuider Zee. Once more the river bifurcates into insig¬ 
nificant streams, one of which is called the Kromme 
Rijn, and beyond Utrecht, and under the name of the 
Oude Rijn, or Old Rhine, it becomes so stagnant that it 
requires the aid of a canal to drain it into the sea. 
Anciently the Rhine at this part of its course was an 
abounding stream, but by the ninth century the sands 
at Katwijk had silted it up, and it was only in the 
beginning of last century that its way to the sea was 
made clear. 

The Sunken City 

More than six centuries ago Stavoren was one of the 
chief commercial towns of Holland. Its merchants traded 
with all parts of the world, and brought back their ships 
laden with rich cargoes, and the city became ever more 
prosperous. 

The majority of the people of Stavoren were well-to-do, 
and as their wealth increased they became luxurious 
and dissipated, each striving to outdo the others in the 

7 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

magnificence of their homes and the extravagance of 
their hospitality. 

Many of their houses, we are told, were like the palaces 
of princes, built of white marble, furnished with the 
greatest sumptuousness, and decorated with the costliest 
hangings and the rarest statuary. 

But, says the legend, of all the Stavoren folk there was 
none wealthier than young Richberta. This maiden 
owned a fleet of the finest merchant-vessels of the city, and 
loved to ornament her palace with the rich merchandise 
which these brought from foreign ports. 

With all her jewels and gold and silver treasures, however, 
Richberta was not happy. She gave gorgeous banquets 
to the other merchant-princes of the place, each more 
magnificent than the last, not because she received any 
pleasure from thus dispensing hospitality, but because she 
desired to create envy and astonishment in the breasts of 
her guests. 

On one occasion while such a feast was in progress 
Richberta was informed that a stranger was waiting with¬ 
out who was desirous of speaking with her. When she 
was told that the man had come all the way from a 
distant land simply to admire her wonderful treasures, of 
which he had heard so much, the maiden was highly 
flattered and gave orders that he should be admitted 
without delay. An aged and decrepit man, clad in a 
picturesque Eastern costume, was led into the room, and 
Richberta bade him be seated at her side. He expected 
to receive from the young lady the symbol of welcome— 
bread and salt. But no such common fare was to be found 
on her table—all was rich and luxurious food. 

The stranger seated himself in silence. At length he 
began to talk. He had travelled in many lands, and now 
8 



He rose abruptly and left the room 
Hiram Ellis 


8 










The Sunken City 

he told of his changing fortunes in these far-off countries, 
always drawing a moral from his adventures—that all 
things earthly were evanescent as the dews of morning. 
The company listened attentively to the discourse of the 
sage; all, that is, but their hostess, who was angry and 
disappointed that he had said no word of the wealth 
and magnificence displayed in her palace, the rich fare on 
her table, and all the signs of luxury with which he was 
surrounded. At length she could conceal her chagrin no 
longer, and asked the stranger directly whether he had 
ever seen such splendour in his wanderings as that he 
now beheld. 

“Tell me,” she said, “is there to be found in the courts 
of your Eastern kings such rare treasures as these of 
mine? ,, 

“Nay,” replied the sage, “they have no pearls and rich 
embroideries to match thine. Nevertheless, there is one 
thing missing from your board, and that the best and 
most valuable of all earthly gifts.” 

In vain Richberta begged that he would tell her what that 
most precious of treasures might be. He answered all 
her inquiries in an evasive manner, and at last, when her 
question could no longer be evaded, he rose abruptly and 
left the room. And, seek as she might, Richberta could 
find no trace of her mysterious visitor. 

Richberta strove to discover the meaning of the old man’s 
words. She was rich—she possessed greater treasures 
than any in Stavoren, at a time when that city was among 
the wealthiest in Europe—and yet she lacked the most 
precious of earth’s treasures. The memory of the words 
galled her pride and excited her curiosity to an extras 
ordinary pitch. In vain she asked the wise men of her 
time—the priests and philosophers—to read her the riddle 

9 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

of the mysterious traveller. None could name a treasure 
that was not already hers. 

In her anxiety to obtain the precious thing, whatever it 
might be, Richberta sent all her ships to sea, telling the 
captain of each not to return until he had found some 
treasure that she did not already possess. The vessels 
were victualled for seven years, so that the mariners might 
have ample time in which to pursue their quest. So their 
commander sent one division of the fleet to the east, 
another to the west, while he left his own vessel to the 
hazard of the winds, letting it drift wheresoever the fates 
decreed. His ship as well as the others was laden 
heavily with provisions, and during the first storm they 
encountered it was necessary to cast a considerable portion 
of the food overboard, so that the ship might right itself. 
As it was, the remaining provisions were so damaged by 
the sea-water that they rotted in a few days and became 
unfit for food. A pestilence would surely follow the use of 
such unwholesome stuff, and consequently the entire cargo 
of bread had to be cast into the sea. 

The commander saw his crew ravaged by the dreaded 
scurvy, suffering from the lack of bread. Then only 
did he begin to perceive the real meaning of the sage’s 
words. The most valuable of all earthly treasures was not 
the pearls from the depths of the sea, gold or silver from 
the heart of the mountains, nor the rich spices of the 
Indies. The most common of all earth’s products, that 
which was to be found in every country, which flourished 
in every clime, on which the lives of millions depended 
—this was the greatest treasure, and its name was— 
bread. 

Having reached this conclusion, the commander of Rich- 
berta’s fleet set sail for a Baltic port, where he took on 
io 


The Sunken City 

board a cargo of corn, and returned immediately to 
Stavoren. 

Richberta was astonished and delighted to see that 
he had achieved his purpose so soon, and bade him tell 
her of what the treasure consisted which he had brought 
with him. The commander thereupon recounted his 
adventures—the storm, the throwing overboard of their 
store of bread, and the consequent sufferings of the crew 
—and told how he at length discovered what was the 
greatest treasure on earth, the priceless possession which 
the stranger had looked for in vain at her rich board. It 
was bread, he said simply, and the cargo he had brought 
home was corn. 

Richberta was beside herself with passion. When she 
had recovered herself sufficiently to speak she asked 
him : 

“ At which side of the ship did you take in the 
cargo?” 

“ At the right side,” he replied. 

“ Then,” she exclaimed angrily, “ I order you to cast it 
into the sea from the left side.” 

It was a cruel decision. Stavoren, like every other city, 
had its quota of poor families, and these were in much 
distress at the time, many of them dying from sheer starva¬ 
tion. The cargo of corn would have provided bread for 
them throughout the whole winter, and the commander 
urged Richberta to reconsider her decision. As a last 
resort he sent the barefooted children of the city to her, 
thinking that their mute misery would move her to 
alleviate their distress and give them the shipload of 
corn. But all was in vain. Richberta remained adaman¬ 
tine, and in full view of the starving multitude she had 
the precious cargo cast into the sea. 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

But the curses of the despairing people had their effect. 
Far down in the bed of the sea the grains of corn ger¬ 
minated, and a harvest of bare stalks grew until it reached 
the surface of the water. The shifting quicksands at the 
bottom of the sea were bound together by the overspread¬ 
ing stalks into a mighty sand-bank which rose above the 
surface in front of the town of Stavoren. 

No longer were the merchant-vessels able to enter the 
harbour, for it was blocked by the impassable bank. Nay, 
instead of finding refuge there, many a ship was dashed 
to pieces by the fury of the breakers, and Stavoren became 
a place of ill-fame to the mariner. 

All the wealth and commerce of this proud city were at an 
end. Richberta herself, whose wanton act had raised 
the sand-bank, had her ships wrecked there one by one, 
and was reduced to begging for bread in the city whose 
wealthiest inhabitant she had once been. Then, perhaps, 
she could appreciate the words of the old traveller, that 
bread was the greatest of earthly treasures. 

At last the ocean, dashing against the huge mound with 
ever-increasing fury, burst through the dyke which 
Richberta had raised, overwhelmed the town, and buried 
it for ever under the waves. 

And now the mariner, sailing on the Zuider Zee, passes 
above the engulfed city and sees with wonderment the 
towers and spires of the ‘Sunken Land.’ 

Historical Sketch 

Like other world-rivers, the Rhine has attracted to its 
banks a succession of races of widely divergent origin. 
Celt, Teuton, Slav, and Roman have contested for the 
territories which it waters, and if the most enduring of 
these races has finally achieved dominion over the fairest 
12 


Prehistoric Miners 

river-province in Europe, who shall say that it has emerged 
from the struggle as a homogeneous people, having 
absorbed none of the blood of those with whom it strove 
for the lordship of this vine-clad valley ? He would in¬ 
deed be a courageous ethnologist who would suggest a 
purely Germanic origin for the Rhine race. As the 
historical period dawns upon Middle Europe we find the 
Rhine basin in the possession of a people of Celtic blood. 
As in Britain and France, this folk has left its indelible 
mark upon the countryside in a wealth of place-names 
embodying its characteristic titles for flood, village, and 
hill. In such prefixes and terminations as magh , brig , 
dun , and ac we espy the influence of Celtic occupants, and 
Maguntiacum, or Mainz, and Borbetomagus, or Worms, 
are examples of that ‘ Gallic 9 idiom which has indelibly 
starred the map of Western Europe. 

Prehistoric Miners 

The remains of this people which are unearthed from 
beneath the superincumbent strata of their Teutonic suc¬ 
cessors in the country show them to have been typical 
of their race. Like their kindred in Britain, they had 
successfully exploited the mineral treasures of the country, 
and their skill as miners is eloquently upheld by the mute 
witness of age-cold cinder-heaps by which are found the 
once busy bronze hammer and the apparatus of the smelt¬ 
ing-furnace, speaking of the slow but steady smith-toil 
upon which the foundation of civilization arose. There 
was scarcely a mineral beneath the loamy soil which 
masked the metalliferous rock which they did not work. 
From Schonebeck to Diirkheim lies an immense bed of 
salt, and this the Celtic population of the district dug and 
condensed by aid of fires fed by huge logs cut from the giant 

13 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

trees of the vast and mysterious forests which have from 
time immemorial shadowed the whole existence of the 
German race. The salt, moulded or cut into blocks, was 
transported to Gaul as an article of commerce. But the 
Celts of the Rhine achieved distinction in other arts of 
life, for their pottery, weapons, and jewellery will bear com¬ 
parison with those of prehistoric peoples in any part of 
Europe. 

As has been remarked, at the dawn of history we find the 
Rhine Celts everywhere in full retreat before the rude and 
more virile Teutons. They lingered latterly about the 
Moselle and in the district of Eifel, offering a desperate 
resistance to the onrushing hordes of Germanic warriors. 
In all likelihood they were outnumbered, if not outmatched 
in skill and valour, and they melted away before the 
savage ferocity of their foes, probably seeking asylum 
with their kindred in Gaul. 

Probably the Teutonic tribes had already commenced 
to apply pressure to the Celtic inhabitants of Rhine¬ 
land in the fourth century before the Christian era. As 
was their wont, they displaced the original possessors 
of the soil as much by a process of infiltration as by 
direct conquest. The waves of emigration seem to have 
come from Rhaetia and Pannonia, broad-headed folk, who 
were in a somewhat lower condition of barbarism than the 
race whose territory they usurped, restless, assertive, and 
irritable. Says Beddoe: 1 

“ The mass of tall, blond, vigorous barbarians multiplied, 
seethed, and fretted behind the barrier thus imposed. 
Tacitus and several other classic authors speak of the 
remarkable uniformity in their appearance; how they 
were all tall and handsome, with fierce blue eyes and 
1 The Anthropological History of Europe, p. ioo. 


14 


The Graverow Type 

yellow hair. Humboldt remarks the tendency we all 
have to see only the single type in a strange foreign 
people, and to shut our eyes to the differences among 
them. Thus some of us think sheep all alike, but the 
shepherd knows better; and many think all Chinamen 
are alike, whereas they differ, in reality, quite as much as 
we do, or rather more. But with respect to the ancient 
Germans, there certainly was among them one very 
prevalent form of head, and even the varieties of feature 
which occur among the Marcomans—for example, on 
Marcus Aurelius’ column—all seem to oscillate round 
one central type. 

The ‘ Graverow' Type 

“ This is the Graverow type of Ecker, the Hohberg type 
of His and Rutimeyer, the Swiss anatomists. In it the 
head is long, narrow (say from 70 to 76 in breadth- 
index), as high or higher than it is broad, with the 
upper part of the occiput very prominent, the forehead 
rather high than broad, often dome-shaped, often receding, 
with prominent brows, the nose long, narrow, and promi¬ 
nent, the cheek-bones narrow and not prominent, the chin 
well marked, the mouth apt to be prominent in women. 
In Germany persons with these characters have almost 
always light eyes and hair. . . . This Graverow type is 
almost exclusively what is found in the burying-places 
of the fifth, sixth, and seventh centuries, whether of the 
Alemanni, the Bavarians, the Franks, the Saxons, or the 
Burgundians. Schetelig dug out a graveyard in Southern 
Spain which is attributed to the Visigoths. Still the 
same harmonious elliptic form, the same indices, breadth 
73, height 74.” 


15 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


Early German Society 

Tacitus in his Germania gives a vivid if condensed picture 
of Teutonic life in the latter part of the first century: 

“ The face of the country, though in some parts varied, 
presents a cheerless scene, covered with the gloom of 
forests, or deformed with wide-extended marshes ; toward 
the boundaries of Gaul, moist and swampy ; on the side 
of Noricum and Pannonia, more exposed to the fury of the 
winds. Vegetation thrives with sufficient vigour. The 
soil produces grain, but is unkind to fruit-trees; well 
stocked with cattle, but of an under-size, and deprived by 
nature of the usual growth and ornament of the head. The 
pride of a German consists in the number of his flocks and 
herds ; they are his only riches, and in these he places his 
chief delight. Gold and silver are withheld from them: 
is it by the favour or the wrath of Heaven? I do not, 
however, mean to assert that in Germany there are no 
veins of precious ore ; for who has been a miner in these 
regions ? Certain it is they do not enjoy the possession 
and use of those metals with our sensibility. There are, 
indeed, silver vessels to be seen among them, but they 
were presents to their chiefs or ambassadors; the Germans 
regard them in no better light than common earthenware. 
It is, however, observable that near the borders of the 
empire the inhabitants set a value upon gold and silver, 
finding them subservient to the purposes of commerce. 
The Roman coin is known in those parts, and some of our 
specie is not only current, but in request. In places more 
remote the simplicity of ancient manners still prevails : 
commutation of property is their only traffic. Where money 
passes in the way of barter our old coin is the most 
acceptable, particularly that which is indented at the edge, 
16 


Ancient German Weapons 

or stamped with the impression of a chariot and two horses, 
called the Serrati and Bigati. Silver is preferred to gold, 
not from caprice or fancy, but because the inferior metal is 
of more expeditious use in the purchase of low-priced 
commodities. 

Ancient German Weapons 

“ Iron does not abound in Germany, if we may judge 
from the weapons in general use. Swords and large lances 
are seldom seen. The soldier grasps his javelin, or, as it 
is called in their language, his fram —an instrument tipped 
with a short and narrow piece of iron, sharply pointed, and 
so commodious that, as occasion requires, he can manage 
it in close engagement or in distant combat. With this 
and a shield the cavalry are completely armed. The infantry 
have an addition of missive weapons. Each man carries a 
considerable number, and being naked, or, at least, not 
encumbered by his light mantle, he throws his weapon to 
a distance almost incredible. A German pays no attention 
to the ornament of his person ; his shield is the object 
of his care, and this he decorates with the liveliest colours. 
Breastplates are uncommon. In a whole army you will not 
see more than one or two helmets. Their horses have 
neither swiftness nor elegance, nor are they trained to the 
various evolutions of the Roman cavalry. To advance in a 
direct line, or wheel suddenly to the right, is the whole of 
their skill, and this they perform in so compact a body that 
not one is thrown out of his rank. According to the best 
estimate, the infantry comprise the national strength, and, 
for that reason, always fight intermixed with the cavalry. 
The flower of their youth, able by their vigour and activity 
to keep pace with the movements of the horse, are selected 
for this purpose, and placed in the front of the lines. The 

B 1 7 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

number of these is fixed and certain: each canton sends a 
hundred, from that circumstance called Hundreders by 
the army. The name was at first numerical only: it 
now a title of honour. Their order of battle presents the 
form of a wedge. To give ground in the heat of action, 
provided you return to the charge, is military skill, not 
fear or cowardice. In the most fierce and obstinate 
engagement, even when the fortune of the day is doubtful, 
they make it a point to carry off their slain. To abandon 
their shield is a flagitious crime. The person guilty of it 
is interdicted from religious rites and excluded from the 
assembly of the state. Many who survived their honour 
on the day of battle have closed a life of ignominy by a 
halter.” 

Teutonic Customs 

The kings of this rude but warlike folk were elected by 
the suffrages of the nobility, and their leaders in battle, as 
was inevitable with such a people, were chosen by reason 
of their personal prowess. The legal functions were exer¬ 
cised by the priesthood, and punishments were thus held to 
be sanctioned by the gods. Among this barbaric people the 
female sex was held as absolutely sacred, the functions of 
wife and mother being accounted among the highest 
possible to humanity, and we observe in ancient accounts 
of the race that typically Teutonic conception of the woman 
as seer or prophetess which so strongly colours early 
Germanic literature. Women, indeed, in later times, 
when Christianity had nominally conquered Paganism, 
remained as the sole conservators of the ancient Teutonic 
magico-religious lore, and in the curtained recesses of 
dark-timbered halls whiled away the white hours of winter 
by the painful spelling out of runic characters and the 
18 


The Germanic Tribes 

practice of arts which they were destined to convey from 
the priests of Odin and Thor to the witches of medieval 
days. 

Costume of the Early Teuton 

The personal appearance of these barbarians was as rude 
and simple as were their manners. Says Tacitus: 

“ The clothing in use is a loose mantle, made fast with a 
clasp, or, when that cannot be had, with a thorn. Naked 
in other respects, they loiter away whole days by the 
fireside. The rich wear a garment, not, indeed, displayed 
and flowing, like the Parthians or the people of Sarmatia, 
but drawn so tight that the form of the limbs is palpably 
expressed. The skins of wild animals are also much in 
use. Near the frontier, on the borders of the Rhine, the 
inhabitants wear them, but with an air of neglect that 
shows them altogether indifferent about the choice, The 
people who live more remote, near the northern seas, and 
have not acquired by commerce a taste for new-fashioned 
apparel, are more curious in the selection. They choose 
particular beasts and, having stripped off the furs, clothe 
themselves with the spoil, decorated with parti-coloured 
spots, or fragments taken from the skins of fish that swim 
the ocean as yet unexplored by the Romans. In point of 
dress there is no distinction between the sexes, except 
that the garment of the women is frequently made of linen, 
adorned with purple stains, but without sleeves, leaving 
the arms and part of the bosom uncovered.” 

The Germanic Tribes 

It is also from Tacitus that we glean what were the names 
and descriptions of those tribes who occupied the territory 
adjacent to the Rhine. The basin of the river between 

19 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

Strassburg and Mainz was inhabited by the Tribacci, 
Nemetes, and Vangiones, further south by the Matiacci 
near Wiesbaden, and the Ubii in the district of Cologne. 
Further north lay the Sugambri, and the delta of the river 
in the Low Countries was the seat of the brave Batavii, 
from whom came the bulk of the legions by means of 
which Agricola obtained a footing in far Caledonia. 
Before the Roman invasion of their territories these tribes 
were constantly engaged in internecine warfare, a condi¬ 
tion of affairs not to be marvelled at when we learn that 
at their tribal councils the warrior regarded as an inspired 
speaker was he who was most powerfully affected by the 
potations in which all habitually indulged to an extent which 
seemed to the cultured Roman as bestial in the last degree. 
The constant bearing of arms, added to their frequent 
addiction to powerful liquors, also seemed to render the 
Germanic warriors quarrelsome to excess, and to provoke 
intertribal strife. 

The Romans in the Rhine Country 
Caesar is the first Roman writer to give us any historical 
data concerning the peoples who inhabited the basin of 
the Rhine. He conquered the tribes on the left bank, and 
was followed a generation or so later by Augustus, who 
established numerous fortified posts on the river. But 
the Romans never succeeded in obtaining a firm occupancy 
of the right bank. Their chief object in colonizing the 
Rhine territory was to form an effective barrier between 
themselves and the restless barbarian tribes of the Teutonic 
North, the constant menace of whose invasion lay as a 
canker at the heart of rich and fruitful Italy. With the 
terror of a barbarian inroad ever before their eyes, the 
cohorts of the Imperial City constructed a formidable 
20 


The Rebellion of the Barbarians 

vallum, or earthen wall, from the vicinity of Linz to 
Regensburg, on the Danube, a distance of three hundred 
and fifty miles, for the purpose of raising a barrier against 
the advance of the warlike men of the North. They further 
planted a colony of veterans in the Black Forest neigh¬ 
bourhood in order that invasion might be resisted from 
that side. But as the Empire began to exhibit signs of 
decadence the barbarians were quick to recognize the 
symptoms of weakness in those who barred their advance 
to the wealthy South, the objective of their dreams, hurled 
themselves against the boundary, now rendered feeble by 
reason of the withdrawal of its most experienced defenders, 
and, despite a stern resistance, flooded the rich valleys of 
the Rhine, swamped the colonies on the left bank which 
had imbibed Roman civilization, and made all wholly 
Teutonic. 

The Rebellion of the Barbarians 
This was, however, a process of years, and by no means 
a speedy conquest. The closing years of Augustus* reign 
were clouded by a general rising of the Rhine peoples. 
Quintilius Varus, an officer who had been entrusted with 
the government of the provinces beyond the Rhine, proved 
totally unequal to curbing the bolder spirits among the 
Germans, who under their chief, Arminius, boldly chal¬ 
lenged the forces of this short-sighted officer. Arminius 
belonged to the Cherusci. He had served with the Ger¬ 
man horsemen in the Rhenish armies, and was conversant 
with the Latin language. Observing that half, at least, 
of the Roman forces were on leave, he incited the tribes 
of Lower Saxony to revolt. The weak Varus, who had 
under-estimated the influence of Arminius, attempted to 
quell the rising, but without success, and the bank of the 

21 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

river was the scene of a wholesale slaughter. Varus, com¬ 
pletely losing his nerve, attempted to separate the cavalry 
from the infantry and endeavoured to escape with three 
squadrons of the former; but the Germans surrounded 
them, and after a hand-to-hand struggle of three days 
the Roman army was annihilated. The news of this 
disaster prompted the aged Emperor to dispatch his son 
Tiberius to suppress what appeared to be a general rising 
of the North. The Rhenish tribes, however, were too wary 
to meet the powerful force now sent against them in the 
open field, and during the remainder of the year Tiberius, 
left in peace, occupied himself in strengthening the Rhine 
fortifications. 

He was soon after recalled to Rome to assume the purple 
on the death of Augustus. Germanicus, who had taken 
command of the legions on the Rhine, became conscious 
of discontent among the soldiers, who threatened to carry 
him into Rome and thrust him into the seat of empire. 
But he soothed the passions of his soldiers by gifts and 
promises. A road was opened from the Rhine into the 
German hinterland, and Germanicus led his army into the 
heart of a country of which he knew but little to avenge 
the disasters of the Varian legions. The forest folk 
eluded the invading host, which now sought to return 
to headquarters ; but ere they had completed the journey 
they were assailed and suffered a severe reverse. 
Numerous revolts occurred among the Gaulish legions in 
the service of the Roman Empire in Germany. But the 
stubborn and trained resistance of the Romans no less 
than the inexperience of the Gauls led to a cessation of 
hostilities. The secret of Roman power in Rhenish terri¬ 
tory lay in the circumstance that the two great elements 
of German nationality, the nobility and the priesthood, 
22 


The Franks & Goths 

were becoming Romanized. But a rude culture was 
beginning to blossom, and a desire arose among the bar¬ 
barians for unity. They wished to band themselves into 
a nation. 

The Franks and Goths 

The most dangerous enemies of Rome during the reigns 
of Valerian and Gallienus were the Franks, the Alemanni, 
and the Goths, whose action finally decided the conquest 
of the Rhenish provinces of Rome. The name Frank, or 
Freedman, was given to a confederacy formed in a.d. 240 
by the old inhabitants of the Lower Rhine and the Weser. 
It consisted of the Chauci, the Cherusci, and the Chatti, 
and of several other tribes of greater or less renown. The 
Romans foresaw the power of this formidable union and, 
by the presence of the Emperor himself and his son, 
endeavoured to stem the invasion, which threatened their 
suzerainty. The Franks, fond of liberty and imbued with 
a passion for conquest, crossed the Rhine, in spite of its 
strong fortifications, and carried their devastations to the 
foot of the Pyrenees. For twelve years Gallienus attempted 
to stem the torrent thus freed. 

The Alemanni, who belonged to the Upper Rhine, between 
the Main and the Danube, were composed of many tribes, 
the most important of which was the celebrated Suevi. 
This people, who had now become a permanent nation, 
threatened the Empire with an invasion which was checked 
with difficulty after they had fought their way to the gates 
of Rome itself. In a.d. 271 Aurelian completely subdued 
the Rhenish peoples, numbers of whom were dragged in 
his triumph through the streets of Rome; but after his 
brief reign the old condition of things reasserted itself, 
until Probus, who assumed the purple in 276, restored 

2 3 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

peace and order by the construction of a massive wall 
between the Rhine and the Danube over two hundred 
miles in length. The barbarians were driven beyond the 
river, which had hitherto served as a boundary-line, even 
past the Elbe and the Neckar. Finally, however, the 
internecine strife in the Imperial City forced the Romans 
to return thence, and Rhineland was abandoned to the 
will of its semi-barbarian inhabitants. 

The early Christian centuries are full of the sound of 
conflict. In the fourth century the principal tribes in 
Western Germany were the Franks and the Alemanni, the 
former of whom maintained a constant strife with the 
Saxons, who pressed heavily upon their rear. The Franks 
occupied the lower portion of the river, near to its mouth, 
whilst the Alemanni dwelt on the portion to the bounds 
of Helvetia and Switzerland. At this period great 
racial upheavals appear to have been taking place further 
east. By the beginning of the sixth century the Saxons 
seem to have penetrated almost to the north-western 
Rhine, where the Franks were now supreme. 

The Merovingians 

In the middle of the fifth century arose the powerful 
dynasty of the Merovingians, one of the most picturesque 
royal houses in the roll of history. In their records we 
see the clash of barbarism with advancement, the bizarre 
tints of a semi-civilization unequalled in rude magnificence. 
Giant shadows of forgotten kings stalk across the canvas, 
their royal purple intermingling with the shaggy fell of the 
bear and wolf. One, Chilperic, a subtle grammarian and 
the inventor of new alphabetic symbols, is yet the most 
implacable of his race, the murderer of his wife, the heart¬ 
less slayer of hundreds, to whom human life is as that of 

24 


The Merovingians 

cattle, skilled in the administration of poison, a picturesque 
cut-throat. Others are weaklings, faineants \ but one, the 
most dread woman in Frankish history, Fredegonda, the 
queen of Chilperic, towers above all in this masque of 
slaughter and treachery. 

Tradition makes claim that Andernach was the cradle of 
the Merovingian dynasty. In proof of this are shown the 
extensive ruins of the palace of these ancient Frankish 
kings. Merovig, from whom the race derived its name, 
was said to be the son of Clodio, but legend relates far 
otherwise. In name and origin he was literally a child of 
the Rhine, his father being a water-monster who seized 
the wife of Clodio while bathing in that river. In time 
she gave birth to a child, more monster than man, the 
spine being covered with bristles, fingers and toes webbed, 
eyes covered with a film, and thighs and legs horny with 
large shining scales. Clodio, though aware of the real 
paternity of this creature, adopted it as his own son, as 
did King Minos in the case of the Minotaur, giving 
him the name Merovig from his piscatory origin. On 
Clodio’s death the demi-monster succeeded to the throne, 
and from him sprang a long line of sovereigns, worthless 
and imbecile for the most part. 

Childeric, the son and successor of Merovig, enraged his 
people to such a degree by his excesses that they drove 
him from throne and country. One friend alone remained 
to him, Winomadus, who, having no female relations to 
suffer by the king’s attentions, did not find the friendship 
so irksome as others; indeed, had been a partner in his 
licentious pleasures. He undertook to watch over the 
interests of Childeric during his enforced absence in 
Thuringia at the court of Basium, king of that country. 
The Franks had elected Aegidius, a Roman general, to 

25 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

the sovereignty over them, but as he proved himself no 
better than Childeric, whom they had deposed, they once 
more essayed to choose another ruler. This was made 
known to Childeric through his friend Winomadus. He 
rapidly returned to the shores of the Rhine and, rein¬ 
forcing his following as he proceeded on his march, 
appeared before Andernach at the head of a formidable 
force, composed of many of his former subjects, together 
with Thuringian auxiliaries. The people of Andernach, 
unable to resist this overwhelming argument, again 
accepted Childeric as their king. 

Basina the Sorceress 

While in Thuringia Childeric had seduced the affections 
of Basina, the queen of his protector. When he regained 
his throne he induced her to leave her husband, and made 
her his queen. Basina was a sorceress, one who could 
divine the future and also bestow the gift upon others. 
Through this she gained great influence over Childeric, 
who desired to see and know what fate had in store for 
himself and his race. Basina agreed to satisfy his curi¬ 
osity, and one night, at the midnight hour, they climbed 
together to the summit of the hill behind Andernach. 
There she bade him stand and look out over the plain 
while she performed her magical operations. After some 
lengthy incantations she bade him look well and tell her 
what he saw. 

In a trance-like voice the king replied: 

“ I see a great light upon the plain, although all around is 
blackest night. ,, 

He paused; then, at her bidding, proceeded again: 

“ I see an immense concourse of wild animals—the lion, 
the tiger, the spotted pard, the elephant, the unicorn—ah 1 
26 


Basina the Sorceress 

they are coming this way—they will devour us! ” and he 
turned to flee in great terror. 

Basina bade him stay in peremptory tones and again to 
look out over the plain. In a voice of alarm he cried 
out: 

“ I see bears and wolves, jackals and hyenas. Heaven 
help us, the others are all gone ! ” 

Heedless of his terror, the queen bade him look again 
and, for the last time, tell her what he saw. 

“ I see now dogs and cats and little creatures of all kinds. 
But there is one small animal—smaller than a mouse— 
who commands them all. Ah! he is eating them up— 
swallowing them all—one after another.” 

As he looked the light, the plain, the animals all vanished, 
and darkness fell. Basina then read to him the meaning 
of his vision. 

“The first vision you saw indicated the character of our 
immediate successors. They will be as bold as lions, 
terrible as tigers, strong as elephants, uncommon as 
unicorns, beautiful as the pard. These are the men of an 
age; for a century shall they rule over the land.” 

At this Childeric was delighted and ejaculated a fervent 
“ Praise be to the gods 1 ” 

“ The second,” pursued Basina, “ are the men of the 
following century—our more remote descendants—rude 
as the bear, fell as the wolf, fawning as the jackal, cruel 
as the hyena—the curse of their people and—themselves. 
The last one—the following century—they will be weak, 
timid, irresolute—the prey of every base and low thing, 
the victims of violence, deceit, and cunning; vanquished 
and destroyed at last by the smallest of their own 
subjects.” 

Such was Childeric’s vision and his queen’s interpretation. 

27 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

As she had predicted, the Merovingian dynasty lasted 
three hundred years, when it was overturned by one 
Pepin of Heristal, the smallest man of his day—at least, 
so tradition tells. 

At the death of Clovis his sons split up the kingdom, and 
from that epoch a deadly war was waged between the 
rival kingdoms of Neustria and Austrasia, the west and 
the east. 

The wars of Neustria and Austrasia (Ost Reich , the 
Eastern Kingdom, which has, of course, no connexion 
with the modern Austria) are related by Gregory of 
Tours in his Ecclesiastical History of the Franks , one of 
the most brilliant pieces of historical and biographical 
writing to be discovered among the literature of Europe 
in the Dark Ages. Metz was the capital of this kingdom- 
province. Fredegonda, the queen of Chilperic of 
Neustria, had a deadly blood-feud with her sister-in-law 
of Austrasia, and in the event put her rival to death by 
having her torn asunder by wild horses (a.d. 613). 
Later Austrasia became incorporated with Franconia, 
which in 843 was included in the kingdom of Louis the 
German. 

The Great Race of Charlemagne 
The race of the Carolingians, whose greatest monarch 
was the famous Charlemagne, or Karl der Grosse, sprang 
from a family of usurpers known as the ‘ Mayors of 
the Palace,* who had snatched the crown from the 
rois fainiants , the last weakly shoots of the mighty 
line of Merovig. He was the elder son of Pepin the 
Short, and succeeded, on the death of his father in 
a.d. 768, to a kingdom which extended from the Low 
Countries to the borders of Spain. His whole life was 
28 


The Song of the Saxons 

one prolonged war undertaken against the forces of 
paganism, the Moors of Spain who harassed his borders 
to the south, and the restless Saxon tribes dwelling 
between the Rhine, Weser, and Elbe. Innumerable are 
the legends and romances concerning this great, wise, and 
politic monarch and statesman, who, surrounding himself 
with warriors of prowess whom he called his paladins, 
unquestionably kept the light of Christianity and civiliza¬ 
tion burning in Western Europe. He was, however, 
quite as great a legislator as a warrior, and founded 
schools and hospitals in every part of his kingdom. 
He died at Aix-la-Chapelle in 814, and was buried 
there. 1 

The 1 Song of the Saxons ’ 

One of the most stirring of the romances which tell of the 
wars of Charlemagne in the Rhine country is the Song of 
the Saxons , fifth in number of the Romans des Douze Pairs 
de France , and composed by Jean Bodel, a poet of Artois, 
who flourished toward the middle of the thirteenth cen¬ 
tury. Charles, sitting at table in Laon one Whitsuntide 
with fourteen kings, receives news of an invasion of the 
Saxons, who have taken Cologne, killed many Frankish 
nobles, and laid waste the. country. A racy epitome of 
the events which follow has been given by Ludlow in his 
Popular Epics of the Middle Ages (1865) as follows: 

“ Charles invades Saxony, and reaches the banks of 
‘ Rune the Deep,’ beyond which lies Guiteclin’s palace of 
‘Tremoigne ’ (supposed to be Dortmund, in Westphalia). 
The river is too deep to be crossed by the army, although 

1 For numerous critical articles upon Charlemagne and the epics or 
chansons des gestes connected with him see the author’s Dictionary of 
Medieval Romance . 


29 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

the two young knights, Baldwin and Berard, succeed in 
doing so in quest of adventure. The Saxons will not 
attack, trusting that the French will be destroyed by delay 
and the seasons. And, indeed, after two years and four 
months, the barons represent to the Emperor the sad plight 
of the host, and urge him to call upon the men of Herupe 
(North-west France) for performance of their warlike ser¬ 
vice. This is done accordingly, and the Herupe barons 
make all haste to their sovereign’s aid, and come up just 
after the Saxons have made an unsuccessful attack. They 
send to ask where they are to lodge their troops. The 
Emperor points them laughingly to the other side of the 
Rune, where float the silken banners of the Saxons, but 
says that any of his men shall give up their camping-place 
to them. The Herupe men, however, determine to take 
him at his word and, whilst the Archbishop of Sens 
blesses the water, boldly fling themselves in and cross 
it, and end, after a tremendous struggle, in taking up 
the quarters assigned to them; but when he sees their 
prowess the Emperor recalls them to his own side of the 
river. 

“ A bridge is built, the army passes over it, the Saxons 
are discomfited in a great battle, and Guiteclin is killed 
in single combat by Charlemagne himself. 

“By this time the slender vein of historic truth which 
runs through the poem may be considered as quite 
exhausted. Yet the real epic interest of the work centres 
in its wholly apocryphal conclusion, connected essentially 
with its purely romantic side. 

“Sebile, the wife of Guiteclin, is a peerless beauty, wise 
withal and courteous; ‘ hair had she long and fair, more 
than the shining gold, a brow polished and clear, eyes 
blue and laughing, a very well-made nose, teeth small and 
3 ° 



Sebile and Baldwin 
Hiram Ellis 


30 





















The Song of the Saxons 

white, a savourous mouth, more crimson than blood; and 
in body and limbs so winning was she that God never 
made the man, howsoever old and tottering, if he durst 
look at her, but was moved with desire.’ ” 

Fair Helissend, the daughter of the murdered Milo 
of Cologne, is her captive at once and her favourite, 
and when the French host takes up its position before 
the Rune, names and points out young Baldwin to 
her. 

With her husband’s sanction, Sebile has her tent pitched 
on the bank, and establishes herself there with her ladies 
to act as decoys to the Franks; for “ fair lady’s look makes 
men undertake folly.” She is taken, however, in her own 
toils; falls in love with Baldwin one summer’s day on 
seeing him ride forth with hawk on wrist, and makes 
Helissend invite him over the river, under a very frank 
pledge that “ she will be his, for loss or gain.” Their 
first meeting apparently takes place in the presence of 
Sebile’s ladies, and so little mystery is attached to their 
love that, on Baldwin’s return to the Frank host after 
killing and despoiling of his armour a Saxon chief, he not 
only tells his adventure publicly to the Emperor, but the 
latter promises in a twelvemonth to have him crowned 
king of the country and to give him Sebile for wife, for¬ 
bidding him, however, to cross the river any more—a 
command which Baldwin hears without meaning to obey. 
Nay, when Baldwin has once broken this injunction and 
escaped with great difficulty from the Saxons, the Em¬ 
peror imposes on him the brutal penance of entering 
Sebile’s tent to kiss her in the sight of the Saxons, and 
bringing back her ring—which Baldwin contrives to fulfil 
by putting on the armour of a Saxon knight whom he kills. 
As in The Taking of Orange , it never seems to occur to 

3i 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

the poet that there can be any moral wrong in making love 
to a “Saracen’s” wife, or in promising her hand in her 
husband’s lifetime ; and, strange to say, so benignant are 
these much-wronged paynim that Guiteclin is not repre¬ 
sented as offering or threatening the slightest ill-treatment 
to his faithless queen, however wroth he may be against 
her lover; nor, indeed, as having even the sense to make 
her pitch her tent further from the bank. The drollest bit 
of sentimentality occurs, however, after the victory of 
the Franks and Guiteclin’s death, when Sebile is taken 
prisoner. After having been bestowed in marriage on 
Baldwin by the Emperor, she asks one boon of both, which 
is that Guiteclin’s body be sought for, lest the beasts 
should eat it—a request the exceeding nobleness of which 
strikes the Emperor and the Frank knights with astonish¬ 
ment. When the body is found and brought to Sebile, 
“ the water of her eyes falls down her chin. ‘ Ha, Guite¬ 
clin,’ said she, ‘ so gentle a man were you, liberal and free- 
spending, and of noble witness! If in heaven and on earth 
Mahomet has no power, even to pray Him who made 
Lazarus, I pray and request Him to have mercy on thee.’” 
The dead man is then placed in a great marble tomb; 
Sebile is christened, marries her lover, and is crowned 
with him as Queen of Saxony, Helissend being in like 
manner given to Berard. 

“ It is now that the truly tragical part of the poem com¬ 
mences. Charles and his host depart, the Emperor warn¬ 
ing his nephew to be courteous, loyal, and generous, to 
keep true faith to his wife, yet not to spend too much time 
in her arms, but to beware of the Saxons. The caution is 
needed, for already the two sons of Guiteclin, with one 
hundred thousand Russians and Bulgarians, and the giant 
Ferabras of Russia, a personage twelve feet high, with 
32 


The Song of the Saxons 

light hair plaited together, reddish beard, and flattened 
face, are within a day and a half’s journey of ‘Tremoigne,’ 
burning to avenge Guiteclin. One Thursday morning 
their invasion is announced to the young king, who has 
but fifteen thousand men to oppose to them. Sebile em¬ 
braces her husband’s knees, and entreats him to send at 
once for help to his uncle; the barons whom he has called 
to counsel favour her advice. ‘ Barons,’ said Baldwin, ‘ I 
should fear the dishonour of it. It is too soon to seek 
and pray for succour. We have not yet unhorsed knights, 
cut arms from bodies, made bowels trail; we are fifteen 
thousand young men untried, who should buy our praise 
and our honour, and seize and acquire strange lands, and 
kill and shame and grieve our enemies, cleave the bright 
helmets, pierce the shields, break and tear the hauberks of 
mail, shed blood and make brains to fly. To me a pleasure 
it seems to put on hauberk, watch long nights, fast long 
days. Let us go strike upon them without more delay, 
that we may be able to govern this kingdom.’ The barons 
listen with an ill-will to this speech; Baldwin himself, on 
viewing the paynim host, is staggered at their numbers, 
and lets Sebile persuade him to send a messenger to his 
uncle. However, with five thousand men he makes a 
vigorous attack on the vanguard of the Saxons, consisting 
of twenty thousand, and ends by putting them to flight. 
On the news of this repulse the two sons of Guiteclin come 
out, apparently with the bulk of the army. The French 
urge the young king to re-enter the city, but he refuses— 
Sebile would hold him for a sleepy coward. He kills 
Ferabras, unhorses one of Guiteclin’s sons. But the dis¬ 
parity of numbers is too great; the French are obliged to 
retreat, and shut themselves up in the city. 

“ Meanwhile the messenger had reached Charlemagne at 

c 33 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Cologne with the news of the renewal of the war. Whilst 
all his barons are summoned, the Emperor starts in haste 
himself for Saxony with ten thousand men. Baldwin was 
seated in his tower, looking out upon a league of hostile 
tents, complaining to Sebile, who ‘ comforts him as a 
worthy lady,* bidding him trust in his uncle’s succour. 
She is the first to descry the French host and to point it 
out to her husband. ‘ Ah, God ! ’ said Charles’s nephew, 
‘ fair Father Creator, yet will I avenge me of the pagan 
people.’ He goes down from his palace, and cries to his 
men, ‘ Arm ye, knights ! Charles is returned.’ 

“ The besieged prepare at once for a sally. Sebile places 
the helmet on her husband’s head and kisses him, never 
to see him more alive. The enemy are disarmed; three 
thousand of them are killed by the time Baldwin cuts his 
way to his uncle, to whom, as his liege lord, he makes 
complaint against the Saxons. The Emperor’s answer 
contains little but philosophic comfort: ‘Fair nephew, so 
goes war; when your day comes, know that you will die; 
your father died, you will not escape. Yonder are your 
enemies, of whom you complain; I give you leave, go and 
strike them.’ Uncle and nephew both perform wonders. 
But Berard is killed by Feramor, one of Guiteclin’s sons, 
and the standard which he bore disappears under him. 
Baldwin engages Feramor; each severely wounds the 
other; the fight is so well contested that Baldwin offers 
to divide the land with him if he will make peace. The 
Saxon spurns the offer, and is killed. 

“ But ‘ Baldwin is wounded in the breast grievously ; from 
thence to the spur his body is bloody.’ Saxons, Lusatians, 
Hungarians perceive that his blows lessen and fall slow. 

‘Montjoie ! ’ he cries many a time, but the French hear him 
not. ‘ When Baldwin sees that he will have no succour, 
34 


The Song of the Saxons 

as a boar he defends himself with his sword. . . . Who 
should have seen the proud countenance of the king, how 
he bears and defends himself against the paynim, great 
pity should surely take his heart.’ Struck with fifteen 
wounds, his horse killed under him, he offers battle on 
foot. They dare not approach, but they fling their swords 
at him, and then go and hide beneath a rock. Baldwin, 
feeling death approaching, ‘ from the fair eyes of his head 
begins to weep ’ for sorrow and rage. He now addresses 
an elaborate last prayer to God ; but whilst he is on his 
knees, looking toward the East, a Saxon comes to cut off 
his head. Baldwin, furious, seizes his sword, which had 
fallen from his hand on the green grass, and with a last 
blow cleaves the Saxon to the shoulders, then dies. 

“ The news is carried to the Emperor, who laments his 
ill fate. Rest he has never had; the paynim folk have 
killed him the flower of his friends, Roland at Roncevaux 
and now Baldwin. c Ha, God! send me death, without 
making long delay! ’ He draws his sword, and is about 
to kill himself when Naymes of Bavaria restrains him 
and bids him avenge his nephew’s death. The old man, 
however, exposes his life with such recklessness, the 
struggle is so unequal, that Naymes himself has to 
persuade him to leave the-battle and enter the city until 
the Herupe nobles come to his aid. ‘ Dead is Count 
Roland and Count Oliver, and all the twelve peers, who 
used to help in daunting that pride which makes us bend 
so; no longer at your right hand is Baldwin the warrior; 
the paynim have killed him and Berard the light; God 
has their souls. ... If you are killed . . . in your death 
alone a hundred thousand will die.’ 

“ They lead him away, unwilling, from the field. Baldwin’s 
corpse is carried by him on his shield. Sebile comes to 

35 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

meet the Emperor and asks of her husband. Charles 
bids her look at him. She faints to the ground. There 
is true pathos (though somewhat wire-drawn) in her 
lament, when she comes to herself: 

“ ‘ Sir King Baldwin, for God’s sake, speak ! I am your 
love, mistake me not. If I have offended you in aught, 
it shall be made amends for wholly to your pleasure; but 
speak to me. For you was my body baptized and lifted; 
my heart leans on you, and all my affections, and if you 
fail me, it will be ill done. Too soon it seems to me, if 
already you repent. Baldwin, is it a trick ? Are you 
deceiving me ? Speak to me, friend, if you can. . . . 
I see your garments dyed and bloody, but I do not believe 
that you are killed; there is no man so bold or so 
outrageous who ever could kill you ; he durst not do so. 
But I think by such a will you wish to try me, how I 
should behave if you were departed. Speak to me, for 
God’s sake who was born of virgin, and for that lady who 
kept chastity, and for the holy cross whereon Jesus 
suffered ! Try me no more, friend, it is enough ; I shall 
die now if you tarry longer,’ ‘ Naymes,’ says the king, 

‘ take this lady away ; if I see her grief any more , I shall 
go madl 

“ That night he ate no bread nor drank wine, but had the 
city watched, and rode the rounds himself, with helmet 
closed, his great buckler hanging to his neck, his sword 
in his fist. All the night it rained and blew; the water 
ran through the joints of his hauberk, and wetted his 
ermine pelisse beneath. His beard swayed, whiter than 
flax, his long moustache quivered ; until dawn he lamented 
his nephew, and the twelve peers, and all his next-of-kin 
who were dead. From the gate at morn a Saxon, King 
Dyalas, defies the old man, swearing that he will wear his 
36 


Fastrada: a Legend of Aix-la-Chapelle 

crown in Paris. The Emperor has the gate opened, and 
sallies forth to meet him. They engage in single combat; 
the old Emperor kills the Saxon’s horse, disarms him, 
and only spares his life on condition of his embracing 
Christianity and yielding himself prisoner. 

“ The rest of the poem has comparatively little interest. 
Old Naymes in turn kills his man—a brother of Guiteclin 
—in single combat. Dyalas, the Emperor’s new vassal, 
‘ armed in French fashion,’ performs wonders in honour 
of his new allegiance. Finally the Herupese come up, and 
of course overthrow the Saxons. An abbey is founded on 
the field of battle, which Sebile enters; Dyalas, baptized 
as ‘ Guiteclin the convert,’ receives charge of the kingdom, 
and the Emperor returns, bearing with him the bodies of 
Baldwin and Berard; after which 4 well was France in 
peace many a year and many a day; the Emperor found 
not any who should make him wroth.’ ” 

Fastrada: a Legend of Aix-la-Chapelle 
Fastrada, we are told, was the fourth wife of the Emperor 
Charlemagne and the best beloved. Historians have 
judged that the lady was by no means worthy of the 
extraordinary affection bestowed upon her by her husband, 
some maintaining that she practised the arts of sorcery, 
others crediting her with political intrigues, and still 
others roundly asserting that she was not so virtuous as 
she should have been. 

History failing to account for Charlemagne’s devotion to 
his fourth wife, the task has devolved upon tradition. 
Once upon a time (so runs the tale), when Charlemagne 
dwelt at Zurich, he had a pillar erected before his house, 
and on the top of the pillar a bell was placed, so that any 
one desiring justice had but to ring it to be immediately 

37 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

conducted before the Emperor, there to have his case 
considered. 

One day, just as Charlemagne was about to dine, the bell 
was rung loudly. He at once dispatched his attendants 
to bring the importunate claimant into his presence. A 
moment later they re-entered with the assurance that no 
one waited outside. Even as they spoke the bell rang 
again, and again the attendants withdrew at the bidding 
of their royal master. Once more they returned with the 
information that none was to be seen. When the bell 
rang for the third time the Emperor himself rose from 
the table and went outside to satisfy himself as to the 
ringer’s identity. This time the mystery was solved; for 
twining round the pillar was a great snake, which, before 
the astonished eyes of the Emperor and his suite, was 
lustily pulling the bell-rope. 

“ Bring the snake before me,” said Charlemagne. 
“ Whether to man or beast, I may not refuse justice.” 
Accordingly the snake was conducted with much cere¬ 
mony into the Emperor’s presence, where it was distinctly 
observed to make a low obeisance. The Kaiser addressed 
the animal courteously, as though it were a human being, 
and inquired what it wanted. Whereupon the snake 
made a sign which the company took to indicate that it 
desired the Emperor to follow it. Charlemagne did not 
hesitate, but followed the creature to the shores of the 
lake, attended by all his courtiers. Straight to its nest 
went the snake, and there, among the eggs, was an enor¬ 
mous toad, puffing out its bloated body and staring with 
glassy eyes at the company. The reason for the snake’s 
appeal was at once apparent. 

“ Take away that toad,” said the Emperor, as gravely as 
though he were pronouncing judgment in an important 
3* 


Fastrada: a Legend of Aix-la-Chapelle 

human case; “take away that toad and burn it. It has 
taken unlawful possession of the snake’s nest.” 

The court listened to the Emperor’s decree in respectful 
silence, and immediately carried out the sentence. The 
company thereupon re-entered the royal abode, and 
thought no more of the incident. 

On the following day, however, at about the same hour, 
the serpent entered the chamber in which Charlemagne 
sat, and glided swiftly toward the table. The attendants 
were somewhat astonished at the unexpected appearance, 
but the Kaiser motioned to them to stand aside, for he 
was very curious to see what the reptile would do. 
Raising itself till its head was on a level with the table, 
it dropped into his plate a magnificent diamond of the 
first water, gleaming with the purest light. This done, 
the serpent bowed low, as on the previous occasion, and 
quitted the room as silently as it had entered. 

The diamond, set in a gold ring of exquisite workmanship, 
Charlemagne presented to his wife, the beautiful Fastrada. 
But besides being a thing of beauty and of great value, 
the diamond was also a charm, for whoever received it 
from another received with it a wealth of personal affection. 
So was it with Charlemagne and Fastrada. On presenting 
the ring to his wife the Emperor straightway conceived 
for her a passion far more intense than he had hitherto 
experienced. From that time to the day of her death he 
was her devoted slave, blind and deaf to all her faults. 
Nay, even when she died, he refused to quit the room in 
which she lay, or permit the interment of her body; re¬ 
fused to see the approach of corruption, which spares not 
youth or loveliness; seemed, in short, to have lost all 
count of the passage of time in his grief for the beloved 
Fastrada. At length he was approached by Turpin, 

39 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

Archbishop of Rheims, who had learnt, by occult means, 
the reason for the Emperor’s strange infatuation. Going 
up to the dead Empress, he withdrew from her mouth a 
large diamond. At the same moment Charlemagne re¬ 
gained his senses, made arrangements for the burial of 
his wife, and left for the Castle of Frankenstein. 

The possessor of the ring was now the worthy archbishop, 
and to him the magically inspired affections of Charlemagne 
were transferred, much to the good man’s annoyance. To 
rid himself of the unwelcome attentions and fulsome 
flatteries of his sovereign, he cast the ring into the lake 
which surrounded the castle. Once more the Emperor’s 
affections changed their object, and this time it was the 
town of Aix-la-Chapelle with which he fell in love, and for 
which he retained a firm attachment all through his life, 
finally directing that he should be buried there. And so 
he was laid to rest in that wondrous old town in the 
church of St. Mary. In the year 1000 his tomb was 
opened by the Emperor Otto III, but the account that 
Otto found the body seated upon a throne with crown on 
head and sceptre in hand is generally regarded as legendary. 
The sarcophagus was once more opened by Frederick I in 
1165, when the remains were transferred from the princely 
marble where they had hitherto rested and placed in a 
wooden coffin. Fifty years later, however, Frederick II 
had them placed in a splendid shrine. The original 
sarcophagus may still be seen at Aix, and the royal relics 
are exhibited every six years. 

Louis, Charlemagne’s son, lived to see the division of his 
Empire, brought about through his own weakness. His 
fair provinces were ravaged by the Danes and the Normans. 
Teuton and Frank were now for ever separated. Twice 
during Louis’ reign his own sons dethroned him, but 
40 


The Last Carolingians 

on his death in 840 the Empire became more firmly 
established. 

Lothair I (840-855) succeeded to the imperial title, while 
Germany fell to the lot of his brother Louis. Charles the 
Bald ruled over France. Lothair’s portion was limited to 
Lorraine, Burgundy, Switzerland, and Italy. Civil strife 
broke out, but Louis retained the whole of Germany with 
the provinces on the left bank of the Rhine. Louis II 
(856-875) ascended the throne as Roman Emperor, but 
died without any male issue, while Charles the Fat, who 
succeeded him, was removed from the throne by order of 
the Church on account of his insanity. 

With Charles ended the Carolingian dynasty. From 
the death of the illustrious Charlemagne the race had 
gradually but surely declined. After the removal of 
Charles the Fat there came a lapse of seventy-four years. 
Conrad I (911-919) founded the Gascon dynasty of 
Germany, and was succeeded by Henry the Fowler 
(919-936). His son, Otto I, called the Great (936-973), 
was crowned Roman Emperor in 962. In 936 his eleva¬ 
tion to the Germanic kingdom was a popular one. A 
portion of Gaul to the west of the Rhine along the banks 
of the Meuse and the Moselle was ceded to the Germans. 
Otto’s supremacy between the Rhine, the Rhone, and the 
Alps was acquired and held for his successors. With 
the sword he propagated Christianity, subdued Italy, and 
delivered the Pope from his enemies, who, to show his 
appreciation, invested him with the imperial title, which 
ever after belonged to the Germanic nation. The German 
Emperors, however, still continued to exercise the right of 
electing the Pope, thereby reducing the Roman Church to 
a level of servitude. 

Toward the close of the Carolingian dynasty France 

4i 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

and Germany had become irrevocably detached; both 
nations suffered from internecine wars. The Slavonians 
penetrated into the Empire, even to the banks of the 
Rhine. Feudal princes began to make war upon each 
other, and, within their respective districts, were virtual 
sovereigns. 

At the partition of the domains of Charlemagne in a.d. 843 
the Rhine formed the boundary between Germany and the 
middle kingdom of Lotharingia, but by 870 the latter had 
been absorbed by the larger country. For a period verging 
upon eight hundred years it remained the frontier of the 
German Empire. In the early Middle Ages the heritage 
of the ancient Roman civilization rendered it the most 
cultured portion of Germany. By the time of Otto I 
(died 973) both banks of the Rhine had become German, 
and the Rhenish territory was divided between the duchies 
of Upper and Lower Lorraine, the one on the Moselle and 
the other on the Meuse. But, like other German states, 
on the weakening of the central power they split up into 
numerous petty independent principalities, each with its 
special history. 

The Palatinate 

Chief among these was the state known as the Palatinate, 
from the German word Pfalz , a name given generally 
to any district ruled by a count palatine. It was 
bounded by Prussia on the north, on the east by Baden, 
and on the south by Alsace-Lorraine. We first hear of 
a royal official known as the Count Palatine of the Rhine 
in the tenth century. Although the office was not origin¬ 
ally an hereditary one, it seems to have been held by the 
descendants of the first count, until the continuity of the 
race of Hermann was broken by the election of Conrad, 
42 


A Tale of the Palatine House 

stepbrother of the German king Frederick I, as Count 
Palatine. From that time till much later in German 
history the Palatinate of the Rhine appears to have been 
gifted during their lifetime to the nephews or sons-in-law 
of the reigning Emperor, and by virtue of his occupancy 
of the office the holder became an Elector, or voter in the 
election of an Emperor. The office was held by a large 
number of able and statesmanlike princes, as Frederick I, 
Frederick III, the champion of Protestantism, and Fre¬ 
derick V. In the seventeenth century the Palatinate was 
first devastated and then claimed by France, and later was 
disturbed by still more harassing religious strife. In 
1777 it was united with Bavaria upon the reigning Elector 
falling heir to the Electorate of that state. 

A Tale of the Palatine House 

Throughout the Middle Ages the nobles of Rhineland 
were mostly notorious for their wild savagery and preda¬ 
tory habits, and thus the modern traveller on the famous 
river, admiring the many picturesque castles built on 
summits overlooking its banks, is prone to think of these 
places as having been the homes of men who were little 
better than freebooters. And in general this idea is just; 
yet Walter Pater’s story,, Duke Karl of Rosenwald — 
which tells how a medieval German baron discovered in 
himself a keen love of art, and sought to gather artists 
round him from France and Italy—may well have been 
culled from a veracious historical source. For at least a 
few of the German petty princes of the Middle Ages 
shared the aestheticism characterizing so many of their 
contemporaries among the noblemen of the Latin races, 
and it is interesting to find that among the old German 
courts where art was loved in this isolated fashion was 

43 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

that of the Palatine house, which ultimately became related 
by marriage to the Royal Stuarts, a dynasty as eminently 
artistic as the Medicis themselves. 

This Palatine house was regnant for many generations 
at Heidelberg Castle, and there, at a remote medieval 
date, reigned a prince named Louis III, who esteemed 
literature and painting. A fond parent he was besides, 
devoted to his two sons, the elder called Louis and 
the younger Frederick; and from the outset he 
attended carefully to the education of the pair, choosing 
as their tutor a noted scholar, one Kenmat, while he 
allowed this tutor’s daughter Eugenia to be taught along 
with the princely pupils, and he also admitted to the 
group an Italian boy, Rafaello. These four children 
grew up together, and the Palatine prince was pleased 
to mark that Frederick, though full of martial ardour, 
showed intellectual tastes as well; yet the father did not 
live long to watch the growth of the boy’s predilection 
therein, and there came a day when the crown of 
Louis III was acquired by his heir, Louis IV. Still 
quite young, the latter was already affianced to Margaret 
of Savoy; and this engagement had incensed various 
nobles of the Rhine, especially the Count of Luzenstein. 
He was eager that his own house should become affiliated 
with the Palatinate, and while he knew that there was 
little hope of frustrating Louis’ prospective wedding, this 
did not nullify his ambitions. For was it not possible 
that the marriage might prove without issue ? And, as 
that would ultimately set Frederick on the Palatine 
throne, Luzenstein determined that his daughter Leonora 
should wed the younger of the two princes. She herself 
was equally eager for the union, and though the affair 
was not definitely arranged in the meantime, it was widely 
44 


A Tale of the Palatine House 

understood that at no very distant date Leonora’s betrothal 
would be announced. 

At length there came a day when the noblesse of 
the Rhine assembled at Heidelberg to celebrate the 
nuptials of Louis and Margaret. For a space the re¬ 
joicings went forward merrily, but, as Louis scanned 
the faces of his guests, he was surprised to find 
that Frederick was absent. Why was this? he 
mused; and going in search he soon found his brother 
in one of the smaller rooms of the castle, attended by 
Rafaello. Now the latter, who was developing a rare 
gift for sculpture, had lately made a statue to decorate 
this room; and on Louis entering Frederick was gazing 
with passionate fondness at this new work of art. Louis 
was straightway called upon to observe its loveliness, 
and even as Frederick was descanting thus, a number of 
the guests who had remarked their host’s temporary 
absence trooped into the room, among them being 
Leonora of Luzenstein. She was in ill-temper, for 
Frederick had not so much as troubled to salute her 
on her arrival; and now, finding him deep in ad¬ 
miration of a statue, its subject a beautiful girl, her 
rancour deepened apace. But who was the girl ? she 
wondered; and as divers other guests were also in¬ 
quisitive on this head, it soon transpired that Rafaello’s 
model had been Eugenia. Leonora knew that this girl 
had been Frederick’s playmate in youth, so her wrath 
turned to fierce malice, for she suspected that in Eugenia 
she had a rival who might wreck all hopes of the Luzen- 
steins becoming united to the Palatine house. 

But Frederick regarded Eugenia only as a sister. He 
knew that she and the sculptor who had hewn her likeness 
loved one another, and he longed to see their union brought 

45 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

about, his genuine affection for the young Italian being the 
greater on account of Rafaello’s blossoming talents as an 
artist. Leonora, however, knew nothing of the real situa¬ 
tion ; she fancied she had been insulted, and demanding 
of her father that he should cease all negotiations regarding 
Frederick’s suggested engagement to her, she proceeded 
to take stronger measures. Readers of Sir Walter Scott’s 
Anne of Geierstein will recall the Vehmgericht , that 
‘SecretTribunal’ whose deeds were notorious in medieval 
Germany, and it chanced that the Luzensteins were in touch 
with this body. Its minions were called upon to wreak 
vengeance on the younger Palatine prince. On several 
occasions his life was attempted, and once he would 
certainly have been killed had not Rafaello succoured him 
in the hour of need. 

Meanwhile a son was born to Louis, and in celebration of 
the event a tourney was held at Heidelberg, competitors 
coming from far and near, all of them eager to win the 
golden sword which was promised to the man who should 
prove champion. One after another they rode into the 
lists, Frederick being among the number; and as each 
presented himself his name was called aloud by the herald. 
At length there came one of whom this functionary cried, 
“This is a nameless knight who bears a plain shield”; 
and at these words a murmur of disapproval rose from the 
crowd, while everyone looked up to where Louis sat, 
awaiting his verdict on the matter. But he signified that 
the mysterious aspirant should be allowed to show his 
prowess, and a minute later, all who were to take part 
being now assembled, Frederick and another competitor 
were stationed at opposite ends of the lists, and the signal 
given them to charge. Forward thundered their steeds, a 
fierce combat ensued; but Frederick proved victor, and so 
46 


A Tale of the Palatine House 

another warrior came forward to meet him. He, too, was 
worsted, and soon it appeared as though the young Palatine 
prince would surely win the coveted golden sword; for 
foeman after foeman he vanquished, and eventually only 
two remained to confront him—the nameless knight and 
another who had entered the lists under a strange, though 
less suspicious, pseudonym. The latter expressed his 
desire to fight last of all, and so the nameless one galloped 
toward Frederick, and their lances clashed together. The 
Palatine prince bore his adversary to the ground, apparently 
conquering him with complete ease; and fearing he had 
wounded him mortally, Frederick dismounted with intent 
to succour him. But the speedy fall had been a feint, and 
as the victor bent down the mysterious knight suddenly 
drew a dagger, with intent to plunge it into the prince’s 
heart. So stealthy a deed was unknown in the history of 
the tourney. The crowd gazed as though petrified, and 
Frederick’s life would doubtless have been lost—for he 
was weak after his many joustings—had not he who had 
asked to fight last of all galloped forward instantly on 
marking the drawn weapon and driven his lance into the 
body of the would-be murderer ! 

It was Rafaello who had rescued the Palatine prince once 
again, and it was a member of the Luzenstein house who 
had sought to kill him thus. A crafty device in truth, 
and thenceforth the name of Luzenstein became abhorred 
throughout all Rhineland, while the brave Italian was 
honoured by knighthood, and arrangements were made 
for his speedy union with Eugenia. But, alas ! the fates 
were untoward ; for the 4 Secret Tribunal,’ having been 
baulked again and again, began to direct their schemes 
against the sculptor instead of his patron ; and one even¬ 
ing, as Rafaello was walking with his beloved one, a band 

47 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

of villains attacked and murdered the pair. They were 
buried together at a place known for many centuries after 
as ‘The Lovers’ Grave,’ and here Frederick used to loiter 
often, musing fondly on the dear sister who had been 
snatched from him in this ruthless fashion, and dreaming 
of the lofty artistic career which he had planned in vain 
for his beloved Rafaello. 

Bishops , Barons , and Bourgeois 
To trace the fortunes, divisions, and junctions of the 
lesser Rhine principalities would be a work requiring a 
world of patience on the part of the reader as well as an 
amount of space which would speedily surpass the limits 
even of such an ample volume as the present. The 
constant changes of boundary of these tiny lordships, the 
hazy character of the powers possessed by their rulers, 
the multiplicity of free townships yielding obedience to 
none but their own civic rulers, the brief but none the less 
tyrannous rule of scores of robber barons who exercised 
a rSgime of blood and iron within a radius of five miles 
of their castellated eyries, render the tracing of the history 
of the Rhine during the Middle Ages a task of almost 
unequalled complexity, robbed of all the romance of 
history by reason of the necessity for constant attention 
to the details of dynastic and territorial changes and the 
petty squabblings and dreary scufflings of savage barons 
with their neighbours or with the scarcely less brutal 
ecclesiastical dignitaries, who, joining with gusto in the 
general mtlte of land-snatching, served to swell the tumult 
with their loud-voiced claims for land and lordship. Three 
of the Electors of Franconia, within the boundaries of which 
the Palatinate was included, were archbishops, and these 
were foremost in all dynastic and territorial bickerings. 

48 


The Rhine Hanse Towns 

The growth of German municipalities since the days of 
their founder, Henry the Fowler, was not without effect 
upon the Empire. Distinctions of class were modified. 
The freeman became empowered to reserve to himself 
the right of going to war along with his lord. Imperial 
cities began to spring up; these were governed by a 
lieutenant of the Emperor, or by their own chief magi¬ 
strate. They achieved confederation, thus guarding them¬ 
selves against imperial and feudal encroachments. The 
‘ League of the Rhine ’ and that of the Hanse Towns 
emerged as the fruit of this policy. The latter federation 
consisted of about four-score cities of Germany which 
under their charter enjoyed a commercial monopoly. 
This example succeeded so well that its promoter, Ltibeck, 
had the satisfaction of seeing all cities between the Rhine 
and the Vistula thus connected. The clergy, jealous of 
this municipal power, besought the Emperor to repress 
the magistrates who had been called into being by the 
people, and who were closely allied to this commercial 
confederation. But the monarch advised the prelates to 
return to their churches lest their opulent friends became 
their enemies. 

The Rhine Hanse Towns 

The influence of the Hanseatic League of the Rhine 
district in the fourteenth century extended over the whole 
commercial radius of Germany, Prussia, Russia, the 
Netherlands, and Britain. It opened up new fields of 
commerce, manufacture, and industry. It paved the way 
for culture, it subdued the piracy which had existed in 
the Baltic, and it promoted a universal peace. On the 
other hand, it created jealousy; it boycotted the honest 
manufacturer and merchant who did not belong to the 

d 49 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

League, and fostered luxury in the Rhenish cities, which did 
much to sap the sturdy character of the people. The cele¬ 
brity which many of these municipalities attained through 
their magnificence can be gathered from the historic 
buildings of Worms, Spires, Frankfort, Cologne, Augsburg, 
and Nuremberg. The splendour of these edifices and the 
munificence of their wealthy inhabitants could only be 
equalled in the maritime regions of Italy. But in the 
fifteenth century the power of the League began to decline. 
The Russian towns, under the leadership of Novgorod 
the Great, commenced a crusade against the Hanse Towns’ 
monopoly in that country. The general rising in England, 
which was one of the great warehouses, under Henry VI 
and Edward IV reflected upon them. The Netherlands 
followed England’s example. In the seventeenth century 
their existence was confined to three German towns— 
Ltibeck, Hamburg, and Bremen. These no longer had 
the power to exercise their influence over the nation, and 
soon the League dropped out of existence. 

The Thirty Years IVar 

The protracted struggle known as the Thirty Years’ War 
was most prejudicial to the interests of the Rhine valley, 
which was overrun by the troops of the several nationalities 
engaged. One phase of this most disastrous struggle— 
the War of the Palatinate—carried the rapine and slaughter 
to the banks of the Rhine, where, as has been said, they 
were long remembered. During the reign of Ferdinand III 
(1637-1659) a vigorous and protracted war broke out 
between France and Germany, the former assisted by her 
ally Sweden. Germany, seeing that unless peace were 
restored her ruin as a great power would be inevitable, 
entered into negotiations with France, and in 1648 
50 


The Thirty Years’ War 

the claims of France and Sweden were settled by the 
Peace of Westphalia. This treaty is particularly notable 
in the present instance because it gave to the former 
country the footing on the Rhine already mentioned as 
the beginning of French encroachments. Germany was 
forced to give up Alsace, on the left bank of the river. 
France, by the seizure of Strassburg, confirmed by the 
Treaty of Ryswick in 1695, extended her boundaries to 
the Rhine. At the beginning of the French Revolution 
Leopold II of Germany and other German monarchs 
agreed to support the cause of French royalty, a 
resolution which was disastrous to the Empire. In 1795 
Prussia, for political reasons, withdrew from the struggle, 
ceding to France, in the terms of the Treaty of Basel, all 
her possessions on the left bank of the Rhine. In 1799 
war again broke out; but in 1801 the Treaty of Lun^ville 
gave to France the whole of the left bank of the river. 
Thus the historic stream became the boundary between 
France and Germany. In 1806 the humiliation of the 
latter country was complete, for in that year a number of 
German princes joined the Confederation of the Rhine, 
thus allying themselves with France and repudiating their 
allegiance to the Empire. In 1815, at the Congress of 
Vienna, the whole of the. Lower Rhenish district was 
restored to Prussia, while Bavaria, a separate state, was 
put in possession of the greater part of the Palatinate on 
the left bank of the Rhine. 

From that time onward the German national spirit 
flourished, but the future of the Empire was uncertain 
till its fate was decided by the Franco-Prussian War of 
1870-71. In the great hall of the Palace of Versailles 
in 1871 William I, King of Prussia, proclaimed, in the 
hour of victory, the restoration of the confederated 

5i 


Hero Tales &? Legends of the Rhine 

German Empire. The French forfeited their Rhenish 
provinces, and once more the Rhine was restored to 
Germany. 

That the Thirty Years’ War did not fail to linger in the 
folk-memory is evidenced by the following gruesome 
legend of Oppenheim: 

The Battle of Skeletons 

The smoke and terror of the great struggle had surged 
over Oppenheim. A battle had been fought there, and 
the Swedes and Spaniards who had contested the field 
and had been slain lay buried in the old churchyard 
hard by the confines of the town. At least many had 
been granted the right of sepulture there, but in a number 
of cases the hasty manner in which their corpses had 
received burial was all too noticeable, and a stranger 
visiting the churchyard confines years after the combat 
could not fail to be struck by the many uncoffined human 
relics which met his gaze. 

But an artist who had journeyed from far to see the 
summer’s sun upon the Rhine water, and who came to 
Oppenheim in the golden dusk, was too intent on the 
search for beauty to remember the grisly reputation of 
the town. Moreover, on entering the place the first 
person by whom he had been greeted was a beautiful 
young maiden, daughter of the innkeeper, who modestly 
shrank back on hearing his confident tones and, curtsy¬ 
ing prettily, replied to his questions in something like a 
whisper. 

“ Can you recommend me to a comfortable hostelry, my 
pretty maid, where the wine is good and the company 
jovial?” 

“ If the Herr can put up with a village inn, that of 
52 


OPPENHEIM ABBEY 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page 52 






























































The Battle of Skeletons 

my father is as good as any in the place,’* replied the 
maid. 

“Good, my pretty,” cried the bold painter, sending the 
ready blood to her face with a glance from his bright 
black eyes. “Lead the way, and I will follow. Or, 
better still, walk with me.” 

By the time they had reached the inn they felt like old 
friends. The girl had skilfully but simply discovered the 
reason for the young artist’s sojourn in Oppenheim, and 
with glowing face and eyes that had grown brighter with 
excitement, she clasped her hands together and cried: 
“Oh, the Herr must paint my beloved Oppenheim. There 
is no such place by moonlight, believe me, and you will 
be amply repaid by a visit to the ruins of the old church 
to-night. See, a pale and splendid moon has already 
risen, and will light your work as the sun never could.” 

“ As you ask me so prettily, Fraulein, I shall paint your 
beloved abbey,” he replied. “ But why not in sunlight, 
with your own sweet face in the foreground ? ” 

“No, no,” cried the girl hastily. “That would rob the 
scene of all its romance.” 

“As you will,” said the artist. “ But this, I take it, is 
your father’s inn, and I am ready for supper. Afterward— 
well, we shall see! ” 

Supper over, the painter sat for some time over his pipe 
and his wine, and then, gathering together his sketching 
impedimenta, quitted the inn and took his way toward 
the ruins of Oppenheim’s ancient abbey. It was a calm, 
windless night, and the silver moon sailed high in the 
heavens. Not a sound broke the silence as the young 
man entered the churchyard. Seating himself upon a 
flat tombstone, he proceeded to arrange his canvas and 
sketching materials; but as he was busied thus his foot 

53 


Hero Tales <§? Legends of the Rhine 

struck something hard. Bending down to remove the 
obstacle, which he took for a large stone, he found, to his 
horror, that it was a human skull. With an ejaculation 
he cast the horrid relic away from him, and to divert his 
mind from the grisly incident commenced to work fever¬ 
ishly. Speedily his buoyant mind cast off the gloomy 
train of thought awakened by the dreadful find, and for 
nearly a couple of hours he sat sketching steadily, until 
he was suddenly startled to hear the clock in the tower 
above him strike the hour of midnight. 

He was gathering his things preparatory to departure, when 
a strange rustling sound attracted his attention. Raising 
his eyes from his task, he beheld a sight which made his 
flesh creep. The exposed and half-buried bones of the 
dead warriors which littered the surface of the churchyard 
drew together and formed skeletons. These reared them¬ 
selves from the graves and stood upright, and as they did 
so formed grisly and dreadful battalions—Swedes formed 
with Swedes and Spaniards with Spaniards. On a sudden 
hoarse words of command rang out on the midnight air, 
and the two companies attacked one another. 

The luckless beholder of the dreadful scene felt the warm 
blood grow chill within his veins. Hotter and hotter be¬ 
came the fray, and many skeletons sank to the ground as 
though slain in battle. One of them, he whose skull the 
artist had kicked, sank down at the young man’s feet. In 
a hollow voice he commanded the youth to tell to the world 
how they were forced to combat each other because they 
had been enemies in life, and that they could obtain no 
rest until they had been buried. 

Directly the clock struck one the battle ceased, and the 
bones once more lay about in disorder. The artist (who, 
it need hardly be said, gave no more thought to his picture) 
54 


The Robbers of the Rhine 

hastened back to the inn and in faltering accents related 
his experiences. When the Seven Years’ War broke out, 
not long afterward, the people of Oppenheim declared that 
the apparition of the skeletons had foretold the event. 

The Robbers of the Rhine 

For many hundreds of years the valley of the Rhine 
itself, and the various valleys adjacent, were the haunt of 
numerous bodies of rapacious and desperate banditti. The 
rugged, mountainous nature of the country naturally made 
lawlessness the more easy there, and till so late as the 
beginning of the nineteenth century these gangs of robbers 
were a constant menace to the traveller in Rhineland. At 
the time of the French Revolution, indeed, and for some 
decades thereafter, the district was literally infested with 
thieves; for the unsettled state of Europe at this date 
perforce tended to bring desperadoes from far and near, 
and for a while the inhabitants of the different villages 
on the banks of the Rhine endured a veritable reign of 
terror. 

But almost from the outset the brigands realized that they 
would soon be undone if they grew too numerous. They 
knew that, in that event, strong military measures would 
probably be taken against them; so they made every 
effort to practise that union which is proverbially strength, 
and to prevent the enlisting in their ranks of anyone likely 
to prove cowardly or perfidious. In some cases, too, they 
actually had a well and capably organized system whereby 
one of their number could escape quickly, if need be, from 
the scene of his crime; for, like the French prisoners 
described in Stevenson’s St . Ives , they had a line of 
sanctuaries extending perhaps into Austria or Italy, the 
retreat in most instances being an inn whose keeper was 

55 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

sworn to hide and protect his robber guest at all costs. 
In short, there was honour among these thieves, and even 
a certain spirit of freemasonry; while, more important still, 
the captain of a band was very often in league with the 
few police officials of the neighbourhood. 

The great highwaymen of Stuart and Georgian England 
—for example, that gallant Beau Brocade of whom Mr. 
Austin Dobson writes—were mostly content with way¬ 
laying a chance passer-by; while their contemporaries in 
France usually worked on this principle also, as witness 
the deeds of the band who figure in Theophile Gautier’s 
story Le Capitaine Fracasse. But the robbers of the 
Rhine were of different mettle from these, and often it 
was almost a predatory warfare rather than mere brigand¬ 
age which they carried on. Frequently they had an agent 
in each of the villages on the river, this agent being 
usually a member of the scattered remnant of Israel; and 
the business of this person was to discover a house 
containing especial wealth, and then to inform the robbers 
accordingly. Having gleaned the requisite information 
in this wise, the gang would sally down from the moun¬ 
tains at dead of night; and it was customary, as they 
drew near to their prey, for the captain to call his hench¬ 
men to attention and see that each was ready for the 
imminent fray. Then, having gagged the village watch¬ 
man and muffled his bell, they would proceed to surround 
the house they intended to rifle, and, should resistance 
be offered, to batter in the door with a log or other 
instrument. Sometimes it would transpire that the Jewish 
agent had misinformed them, telling them of booty where 
booty there was little, and woe betide him should this 
prove the state of affairs. Moreover, unlike the brigands 
in Gil Bias , these scoundrels of the Rhine would not be 
56 


The Robbers of the Rhine 

encumbered by prisoners, and they were wont to slay 
outright all who were minded to show fight. 

Yet to their own brotherhood the robbers were in¬ 
variably loyal, seldom failing to carry away with them 
such of their confreres as were wounded in the assault; 
for each was sworn to support his fellows under all 
circumstances, and awful was the fate of the marauder who 
violated this compact. It is told of a band commanded 
by one Picard, a cruel but brave leader, that one of its 
members chanced to be captured, and with a view to 
purchasing his freedom he gave information about the 
whereabouts of his chief. The next night, as the captive 
lay in his dungeon, a masked face suddenly appeared at 
the barred window, and in awestruck tones the prisoner 
asked the new-comer to declare his identity. “ I am 
Picard, your captain,” came the answer. “As in duty 
bound, I have risked my life to set you free,” and having 
spoken thus, he proceeded to file through one of the bars, 
which being accomplished, the reprobate was drawn out 
of his cell by the aid of a rope. He breathed freely now, 
finding himself once more among some of his old 
comrades, but a moment later Picard addressed him 
again. “ Traitor,” he snarled, “ do not think that your 
perfidy has failed to reach our ears ; you must pay the 
full penalty.” “ Mercy,” cried the unfortunate one ; “ at 
least let me die in action. Lead on against some foe, 
and let me fall at their hands.” “ Cowards,” retorted 
Picard, “ deserve no such gallant fate,” and with these 
words he drove his sword deep into the heart of the 
traitor. 

In general it was a point of honour among these bandits 
that none should reveal to a woman anything about the 
doings of his band, and one story relates how a young 

57 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

brigand, on the eve of setting out on his first predatory 
expedition, was rash enough to inform his sweetheart 
whither he and his mates were bound. Their commander 
was a Captain Jikjak, reputed something of a wit; and 
betimes, after the brigands had marched forward silently 
for a while, this worthy called upon them to halt. They 
imagined it was but the usual inspection of arms which 
was about to take place, but Jikjak, speaking in stentorian 
tones, told them that a traitor was in their midst, and 
pointing to the culprit, he bade him step forth. The 
young man pled his youth as an excuse for his fault, and 
he told the captain that, could he but get a chance to 
show his prowess once, they would soon see that he was 
as gallant a robber as any of them. But Jikjak laughed 
scornfully, saying he was anxious to find out which was 
stronger, the young man’s legs or a pair of trees. The 
culprit quailed on hearing the verdict, and implored a less 
ghastly fate; but Jikjak was obdurate, and smiling 
blandly, he bade his followers bend a couple of stout 
branches to the ground and tie their tops to the ankles of 
the offender. . . . 

Such, then, were the robbers of the Rhine, and such the 
code of honour which existed among them. A romantic 
institution they no doubt were, yet it was a form of 
picturesqueness whose disappearance can scarcely be 
regretted. 


58 


CHAPTER II : THE RHINE IN 
FOLKLORE AND LITERATURE 

Affinities of the Rhine Legends 

A CLOSE perusal of the body of tradition known as 
the legends of the Rhine displays one circum¬ 
stance which is calculated to surprise the collector 
of these narratives not a little. It is generally represented 
—probably through ignorance of the real circumstances— 
that these tales abound in the matter of folklore. This is, 
however, by no means the case, and even a superficial 
examination of them will prove most of them to be allied 
to the matter of romance in a much more intimate way 
than they approach that of folklore. But this is not so 
as regards all of them, and it will be interesting to 
look into the character of those which present folklore 
affinities, whilst leaving the consideration of their 
romantic aspect for a later portion of this chapter. 

By right of precedence, among the legends of the Rhine 
which possess folklore characteristics is the wonderful 
legend of the Lorelei, a word derived from the old High 
German lur, to lurk, and lai , a rock. The height from 
which the bewitching water-spirit sent her song floating 
over the waves of the Rhine is situated near St. Goar, and 
possesses a remarkable echo which may partly account for 
the legend. 

The Lorelei 

Many are the legends which cluster round the name of 
the Lorelei. In some of the earlier traditions she is 
represented as an undine, combing her hair on the Lorelei- 
berg and singing bewitching strains wherewith to lure 
mariners to their death, and one such legend relates 

59 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

how an old soldier named Diether undertook to capture 
her. 

Graf Ludwig, son of the Prince Palatine, had been caught 
in her toils, his frail barque wrecked, and he himself 
caught in the whirlpool and drowned. The prince, 
grievously stricken at the melancholy occurrence, longed 
to avenge his son’s death on the evil enchantress who had 
wrought such havoc. Among his retainers there was but 
one who would undertake the venture—a captain of the 
guard named Diether—and the sole reward he craved was 
permission to cast the Lorelei into the depths she haunted 
should he succeed in capturing her. 

Diether and his little band of warriors ascended the Lore¬ 
lei’s rock in such a way as to cut off all retreat on the land¬ 
ward side. Just as they reached the summit the moon sailed 
out from behind a cloud, and behold, the spirit of the 
whirlpool was seen sitting on the very verge of the 
precipice, binding her wet hair with a band of gleaming 
jewels. 

“ What wouldst thou with me ? ” she cried, starting to 
her feet. 

“To cast thee into the Rhine, sorceress,” said Diether 
roughly, “where thou hast drowned our prince.” 

“ Nay,” returned the maid, “ I drowned him not. ’Twas 
his own folly which cost him his life.” 

As she stood on the brink of the precipice, her lips smiling, 
her eyes gleaming softly, her wet dark hair streaming over 
her shoulders, some strange, unearthly quality in her 
beauty, a potent spell fell upon the little company, so that 
even Diether himself could neither move nor speak. 

“And wouldst thou cast me in the Rhine, Diether?” she 
pursued, smiling at the helpless warrior. “ ’Tis not I who 
go to the Rhine, but the Rhine that will come to me.” 
60 


THE LORELEI 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page 60 


•• 












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. i f : rr>u r// aruo.i 

C>t.N 
































" And woul< 





























































































































The Forsaken Bride 

Then loosening the jewelled band from her hair, she flung 
it on the water and cried aloud : “ Father, send me thy 
white steeds, that I may cross the river in safety.” 
Instantly, as at her bidding, a wild storm arose, and the 
river, overflowing its banks, foamed right up to the summit 
of the Lorelei Rock. Three white-crested waves, resembling 
three white horses, mounted the steep, and into the hollowed 
trough behind them the Lorelei stepped as into a chariot, to 
be whirled out into the stream. Meanwhile Diether and 
his companions were almost overwhelmed by the floods, 
yet they were unable to stirTand or foot. In mid-stream 
the undine sank beneath the waves: the spell was broken, 
the waters subsided, and the captain and his men were 
free to return home. 

Nevermore, they vowed, would they seek to capture the 
Lorelei. 

The Forsaken Bride 

There is a later and more popular legend of the Lorelei 
than the foregoing. 

According to this tale Lorelei was a maiden of surpassing 
beauty who dwelt in the town of Bacharach in medieval 
times. So potent were her attractions that every gallant 
on whom her eye rested fell hopelessly in love with her, 
while her ever-widening fame drew suitors in plenty from 
all parts of the country. The dismissed lovers wandered 
disconsolately in the neighbouring forests, vowing to take 
their lives rather than suffer the pangs of unrequited 
passion; while occasionally the threat was fulfilled, and a 
brave knight would cast himself into the Rhine and perish 
for love of the cold and cruel maid. Thus her fatal beauty 
played havoc among the flower of German chivalry. But 
she, dowered with virtue and goodness, as well as with 

61 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

more transient charms, trembled when she saw the effect 
of her attractions on her many lovers, and secluded herself 
as closely as possible. 

The truth was, she had given her heart into the keeping 
of a young knight who, after plighting his troth with her, 
had ridden away to the wars, his military ardour and 
desire for glory triumphing over his love. Years had gone 
by, yet he did not return, and Lorelei thought that he had 
perished on the field of battle, or had taken another bride 
and forgotten her. But she remained true to him in spite 
of his long silence, and spent her days in tears and prayers 
for his safety. 

Meanwhile she was besieged by an ever-increasing band 
of suitors, to whom her retiring disposition and sorrowful 
mien but made her the more desirable. Then it began to 
be rumoured abroad that she was a sorceress, who won the 
hearts of men by magic art and with the aid of the Evil 
One. The rumour was spread broadcast by jealous and 
disappointed women who saw T their menfolk succumb to 
the fatal charms of the Maid of Bacharach. Mothers 
noticed their sons grow pale and woe-begone because of 
her; maids their erstwhile lovers sighing out a hopeless 
passion for the beautiful Lorelei; so they brought against 
her accusations of sorcery, which in those days generally 
led to the death of the victim by burning. So grievously 
did these malign whispers add to the already heavy burden 
of the maid that she surrendered herself to be tried, hardly 
caring whether or not she were found guilty. She was 
summoned before the criminal court held at Rhens by the 
Archbishop of Cologne, and charged with practising the 
black art in order to ensnare men’s affections. 

However, when she appeared before the court her beauty 
so impressed the assembly, and even the old Archbishop 
62 


The Forsaken Bride 

himself, that none could believe her guilty. Her lovely 
face bore the imprint of innocence, her grief touched every 
heart, and on all sides she was treated with the greatest 
respect and kindness. The old prelate assured her that 
she would not be judged harshly, but begged to hear from 
her own lips that she was innocent of the foul charge 
brought against her. This assurance she gave with art¬ 
less simplicity, and a murmur of approval went up from 
the crowd. The sympathy of those present—for even 
her accusers were melted—and the kindness of the aged 
Churchman who was her judge moved her to confess her 
unhappy love-story. 

“ I pray thee, 55 she concluded wearily, “ I pray thee, my 
lord, let me die. I know, alas! that many true knights 
have died for love of me, and now I fain would die for the 
sake of one who hath forsaken me.” 

The prelate, moved almost to tears by the pathetic story, 
laid his hand on the head of the weeping maid. 

“ Thou shalt not die, fair maiden,” he said. “ I will send 
thee to a convent, where thou mayst live in peace.” And 
calling to his side three trusty old knights, he bade them 
conduct Lorelei to the convent across the river, and 
charge the abbess to treat her with the greatest kindness. 
Having blessed the maid once more, he bade them go. 

On their way to the convent they must needs pass the rock 
since known as the Lorelei-berg, and the girl, who had 
maintained a pensive silence all the way, now observed 
that she would fain ascend the rock and look for the last 
time at the castle of her betrothed knight. 

Her escort w’ould have courteously assisted her, but she, 
with the agility of youth, easily outstripped them, and 
stood alone on the summit, surveying the fair scene before 
her. A light barque was sailing up the river, and as she 

6 3 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

gazed on it Lorelei uttered a loud cry, for there in the 
bow stood her truant lover! The knight and his train 
heard the shriek and beheld with horror the maiden 
standing with outstretched arms on the very edge of the 
precipice. The steering of the boat was forgotten for the 
moment, and the frail craft ran on the rocks. Lorelei 
saw her lover’s peril and, calling his name, leapt into 
the tide. 

Nothing more was seen of the lovers ; together they sleep 
the sleep of death beneath the waters of the Rhine. 

A Blending of Legends 

In these legends we observe how the tradition of a mere 
water-nymph has developed into a story concerning a 
hapless damsel. The first applies to the Lorelei as a 
water-spirit pure and simple, but legends which refer to 
beings originally water-spirits have a knack of becoming 
associated in later times with stories of distressed ladies. 
Indeed, one such came to the writer’s knowledge only 
a few months ago. The mansion of Caroline Park, near 
Edinburgh, dating from the end of the seventeenth 
century, has in its vicinity a well which is reputed to 
be inhabited by a ‘Green Lady,’ who emerges from her 
watery dwelling at twilight and rings the great bell 
of the old manor-house. On visiting the vicinity for 
the purpose of verifying the legend information was 
gleaned respecting another story of a captured lady who 
had been incarcerated in a room in the mansion and had 
written some verses to her lover with her diamond ring 
on a window-pane. The strange thing is that these stories, 
though obviously of different origin, appear now to have 
become fused in the popular imagination : the ‘ Green 
Lady’ and the verse-writing damsel become one and the 
64 


The Nixie 

same, thus affording a case in point of the fusion of a mytho¬ 
logical tale with a later and probably verifiable incident. 
The Lorelei is of course a water-spirit of the siren type, 
one who lures heedless mariners to their destruction. In 
Scotland and the north of England we find her congener in 
the water-kelpie, who lurks in pools lying in wait for 
victims. But the kelpie is usually represented in the 
form of a horse and not in that of a beauteous maiden. 

The Nixie 

Another water-spirit not unlike the Lorelei is the nixie, 
which is both male and female, the male appearing like 
any human being, but, as in the case of the water-spirits 
of the Slavonic peoples and England, Scotland, and 
Central America, being possessed of green teeth. The 
male is called nix, the female nixie , the generic term for 
both being nicker, from a root which perhaps means ‘ to 
wash.’ There is perhaps some truth in the statement 
which would derive the Satanic patronymic of ‘Old 
Nick’ from these beings, as spirits extremely familiar to 
the Teutonic mind. On fine sunny days the nixies maybe 
seen sitting on the banks of rivers, or on the branches of 
trees, combing their long golden locks. Previous to a 
drowning accident the nixies can be seen dancing on the 
surface of the water. Like all sea and river spirits, their 
subaqueous abode is of a magnificence unparalleled 
upon earth, and to this they often convey mortals, who, 
however, complain that the splendours of the nixies’ 
palaces are altogether spoiled for them by the circumstance 
that their banquets are served without salt. 

Where on the marshes boometh the bittern, 

Nicker the Soulless sits with his ghittern; 

Sits inconsolable, friendless and foeless, 

Bewailing his destiny, Nicker the Soulless. 

E 


6 5 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

The Nixie of the Mummel-lake 

The legend of the nixie of Seebach is one of gloom and 

tragedy, albeit as charming as most of the Rhine tales. 

It was the custom among the young people of Seebach to 
assemble of an evening in the spinning-room, which on the 
occasion about to be dealt with was in the house of the 
richest and most distinguished family in the country. The 
girls spun and laughed and chatted, while the youths hung 
about their chairs and cracked jokes with them. One 
evening while they were thus employed there came among 
them a stranger, a young lady beautifully clad and carrying 
an ivory spinning-wheel. With becoming modesty she 
asked to be allowed to join the company, which permission 
the simple youths and maidens readily accorded. None 
was more eager to do honour to the new-comer than the son 
of their host. While the others were still gaping in awe¬ 
struck fashion, he quietly fetched her a chair and performed 
various little services for her. She received his attentions 
so graciously that a warmer feeling than courtesy sprang 
up in his heart for the fair spinner. 

He was in truth a handsome lad, whose attentions any 
maid might have been proud to receive. Well-built and 
slender, he bore himself with a proud carriage, and the 
expression on his delicate features was grave and 
thoughtful beyond his years. When at length the fair 
visitor departed, he loitered disconsolate and restless, listen¬ 
ing to the idle surmises of the peasant youths concerning 
the identity of the lady, but offering no opinion himself. 
On the following day at the same hour she again appeared 
and, seeing her cavalier of the previous day, smiled and 
bowed to him. The young man glowed with pleasure, 
and diffidently renewed his attentions. Day after day 
66 


The Nixie of the Mummel-lake 

the lady of the spinning-wheel joined the company, and 
it was noted that the girls were brighter and more dili¬ 
gent, and the young men more gentle and courteous, for 
her coming. It was whispered among them that she was a 
nixie from the Mummel-lake far under the mountains, for 
never mortal was so richly endowed with beauty and grace. 
As time went on the son of the house grew more and more 
melancholy as his love for the fair unknown became 
deeper. Only during the brief hour of her visit would 
he show any cheerfulness. All the rest of the day he 
would mope in silent wretchedness. His friends saw 
with distress the change which had come over him, but 
they were powerless to alter matters. The lady could not 
be persuaded to remain beyond her usual hour, nor to 
give any hint of her identity. 

One day, thinking to prolong her visit, the young man 
put back the hands of the clock. When the hour drew 
near for her to depart, he slipped out of the house so that 
he might follow her and find out where she lived. When 
the hour struck, the lady, who seemed to have feared 
that she was late, walked hastily from the house in the 
direction of the lake. So quickly did she walk that the 
youth following in her path could scarcely keep pace with 
her. She did not pause when she reached the shore, but 
plunged directly into the water. A low, moaning sound 
rose from the waves, which boiled and bubbled furiously, 
and the young man, fearing that some evil had befallen 
the maid, sprang in after her, but the cruel currents 
dragged him down, and he sank out of sight. 

Next day his body was found floating on the lake by 
some woodcutters, and the nixie of the Mummel-lake was 
seen no more. 


67 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

The IVild Huntsman 

One of the most interesting Rhine myths is that con¬ 
cerning the Wild Huntsman, which is known all over 
Rhineland, and which is connected with many of its 
localities. The tale goes that on windy nights the Wild 
Huntsman, with his yelling pack of hounds, sweeps through 
the air, his prey departing souls. The huntsman is, of 
course, Odin, who in some of his aspects was a hunter- 
god. The English legend of Herne the Hunter, who 
haunts Windsor Park, is allied to this, and there can 
be little doubt that Herne is Odin. Indeed, it is here 
su gg es ted that the name Herne may in some way be 
connected with one of Odin’s titles, Hari, the High One. 
It was the legend of the Wild Huntsman that inspired 
Sir Walter Scott to write one of his finest ballads of the 
mysterious. An Edinburgh friend had perused a ballad 
by Burger, entitled Lenore , but all he could remember of 
it were the following four lines: 

Tramp, tramp, across the land they ride; 

Splash, splash, across the sea. 

Hurrah! the dead can ride apace, 

Dost fear to ride with me ? 

This verse fired Scott’s imagination. He liked this sort 
of thing, and could do it very well himself. So on 
reaching home he sat down to the composition of the 
following ballad, of which we give the most outstanding 
verses: 


THE WILD HUNTSMAN 

The Wildgrave winds his bugle horn: 
To horse, to horse, haloo, haloo ! 

His fiery courser sniffs the morn, 

And thronging serfs their lord pursue. 


68 


The Wild Huntsman 

The eager pack, from couples freed, 

Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake ; 
While answering hound, and horn, and steed, 
The mountain echoes startling wake. 

The beams of God’s own hallowed day 
Had painted yonder spire with gold, 

And, calling sinful men to pray, 

Loud, long, and deep the bell hath tolled. 

But still the Wildgrave onward rides ; 

Haloo, haloo, and hark again ! 

When, spurring from opposing sides, 

Two stranger horsemen join the train. 

Who was each stranger, left and right ? 

Well may I guess, but dare not tell. 

The right-hand steed was silver-white; 

The left, the swarthy hue of hell. 

The right-hand horseman, young and fair, 

His smile was like the morn of May; 

The left, from eye of tawny glare, 

Shot midnight lightning’s lurid ray. 

He waved his huntsman’s cap on high, 

Cried, “ Welcome, welcome, noble lord ! 
W T hat sport can earth, or sea, or sky, 

To match the princely chase, afford ? ” 

“ Cease thy loud bugle’s clanging knell,” 

Cried the fair youth with silver voice ; 

“ And for devotion’s choral swell, 

Exchange the rude, unhallowed noise. 

“ To-day th’ ill-omened chase forbear ; 

Yon bell yet summons to the fane: 

To-day the warning spirit hear, 

To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain.” 

The Wildgrave spurred his ardent steed, 

And, launching forward with a bound, 

“ Who for thy drowsy priestlike rede 
Would leave the jovial horn and hound ? 


•o Tales Legends of the Rhine 

“ Hence, if our manly sport offend : 

With pious fools go chant and pray. 

Well hast thou spoke, my dark-brown friend, 

Haloo, haloo, and hark away ! ” 

The Wildgrave spurred his courser light, 

O’er moss and moor, o’er holt and hill, 

And on the left and on the right 

Each stranger horseman followed still. 

Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, 

A stag more white than mountain snow ; 

And louder rung the Wildgrave’s horn— 

“ Hark forward, forward ! holla, ho ! ” 

A heedless wretch has crossed the way— 

He grasps the thundering hoofs below; 

But, live who can, or die who may, 

Still forward, forward ! on they go. 

See where yon simple fences meet, 

A field with autumn’s blessings crowned; 

See, prostrate at the Wildgrave’s feet, 

A husbandman with toil embrowned. 

“ Oh, mercy ! mercy ! noble lord; 

Spare the poor’s pittance,” was his cry; 

“ Earned by the sweat these brows have poured 
In scorching hours of fierce July.” 

“ Away, thou hound, so basely born, 

Or dread the scourge’s echoing blow ! ” 

Then loudly rung his bugle horn, 

“ Hark forward, forward ! holla, ho ! ” 

So said, so done—a single bound 

Clears the poor labourer’s humble pale : 

Wild follows man, and horse, and hound, 

Like dark December’s stormy gale. 

And man, and horse, and hound, and horn 
Destructive sweep the field along, 

While joying o’er the wasted corn 

Fell famine marks the madd’ning throng. 


The Wild Huntsman 

Full lowly did the herdsman fall: 

“ Oh, spare, thou noble baron, spare 
These herds, a widow’s little all; 

These flocks, an orphan’s fleecy care.” 

“ Unmannered dog ! To stop my sport 
Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, 
Though human spirits of thy sort 
Were tenants of these carrion kine ! ” 

Again he winds his bugle horn, 

“ Hark forward, forward ! holla, ho ! ” 

And through the herd in ruthless scorn 
He cheers his furious hounds to go. 

In heaps the throttled victims fall; 

Down sinks their mangled herdsman near 
The murd’rous cries the stag appal, 

Again he starts, new-nerved by fear. 

With blood besmeared, and white with foam, 
While big the tears of anguish pour, 

He seeks, amid the forest’s gloom, 

The humble hermit’s hallowed bow’r. 

All mild, amid the route profane, 

The holy hermit poured his prayer: 

“ Forbear with blood God’s house to stain : 
Revere His altar, and forbear ! 

“ The meanest brute has rights to plead, 
Which, wronged by cruelty or pride, 

Draw vengeance on the ruthless head ; 

Be warned at length, and turn aside.” 

Still the fair horseman anxious pleads ; 

The black, wild whooping, points the prey. 
Alas ! the Earl no warning heeds, 

But frantic keeps the forward way. 

“ Holy or not, or right or wrong, 

Thy altar and its rights I spurn; 

Not sainted martyrs’ sacred song, 

Not God Himself shall make me turn,” 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, 

“ Hark forward, forward ! holla, ho ! ” 

But off, on whirlwind’s pinions borne, 

The stag, the hut, the hermit, go. 

And horse and man, and horn and hound, 

The clamour of the chase was gone ; 

For hoofs, and howls, and bugle sound, 

A deadly silence reigned alone. 

Wild gazed the affrighted Earl around ; 

He strove in vain to wake his horn, 

In vain to call; for not a sound 

Could from his anxious lips be borne. 

High o’er the sinner’s humbled head 
At length the solemn silence broke; 

And from a cloud of swarthy red 
The awful voice of thunder spoke : 

“ Oppressor of creation fair ! 

Apostate spirits’ hardened tool! 

Scorner of God ! Scourge of the poor ! 

The measure of thy cup is full. 

“ Be chased for ever through the wood, 

For ever roam the affrighted wild ; 

And let thy fate instruct the proud, 

God’s meanest creature is His child.” 

’Twas hushed : one flash of sombre glare 
With yellow tinged the forest’s brown ; 

Up rose the Wildgrave’s bristling hair, 

And horror chilled each nerve and bone. 

Earth heard the call—her entrails rend; 

From yawning rifts, with many a yell, 

Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend 
The misbegotten dogs of hell. 

What ghastly huntsman next arose, 

Well may I guess, but dare not tell: 

His eye like midnight lightning glows, 

His steed the swarthy hue of hell. 


7 2 


Dwarfs & Gnomes 

The Wildgrave flies o’er bush and thorn, 
With many a shriek of hapless woe ; 

Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, 
And hark away, and holla, ho ! 

With wild despair’s reverted eye, 

Close, close behind, he marks the throng; 

With bloody fangs, and eager cry, 

In frantic fear he scours along. 

Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, 

Till time itself shall have an end ; 

By day, they scour earth’s caverned space; 
At midnight’s witching hour, ascend. 

This is the horn, and hound, and horse, 

That oft the ’lated peasant hears; 

Appalled, he signs the frequent cross, 

When the wild din invades his ears. 


Dwarfs and Gnomes 

Beings of the dwarf race swarmed on the banks of Rhine. 
First and foremost among these are the gnomes, who 
guard the subterranean treasures, but who on occasion 
reveal them to mortals. We meet with these very 
frequently under different guises, as, for instance, in the 
case of the ‘ Cooper of Auerbach,’ and the Yellow Dwarf 
who appears in the legend, of Elfeld. The Heldenbuch , 
the ancient book in which are collected the deeds of the 
German heroes of old, says that “ God gave the dwarfs 
being because the land on the mountains was altogether 
waste and uncultivated, and there was much store of 
silver and gold and precious stones and pearls still in the 
mountains. Wherefore God made the dwarfs very artful 
and wise, that they might know good and evil right well, 
and for what everything was good. Some stones give 
great strength, some make those who carry them about 

73 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

them invisible. That is called a mist-cap, and therefore 
did God give the dwarfs skill and wisdom. Therefore 
they built handsome hollow-hills, and God gave them 
riches.” 

Keightley, in his celebrated Fairy Mythology , tells of a 
class of dwarfs called Heinzelmannchen , who used to live 
and perform their exploits in Cologne. These were 
obviously of the same class as the brownies of Scotland, 
Teutonic house-spirits who attached themselves to the 
owners of certain dwellings, and Keightley culled the 
following anecdote regarding them from a Cologne publi¬ 
cation issued in 1826: 

“ In the time that the Heinzelmannchen were still there, 
there was in Cologne many a baker who kept no man, for 
the little people used always to make, overnight, as much 
black and white bread as the baker wanted for his shop. 
In many houses they used to wash and do all their work 
for the maids. 

“Now, about this time, there was an expert tailor to 
whom they appeared to have taken a great fancy, for 
when he married he found in his house, on the wedding- 
day, the finest victuals and the most beautiful utensils, 
which the little folk had stolen elsewhere and brought to 
their favourite. When, with time, his family increased, 
the little ones used to give the tailor’s wife considerable 
aid in her household affairs; they washed for her, and on 
holidays and festival times they scoured the copper and 
tin, and the house from the garret to the cellar. If at 
any time the tailor had a press of work, he was sure to 
find it all ready done for him in the morning by the 
Heinzelmannchen. 

“ But curiosity began now to torment the tailor’s wife, 
and she was dying to get one sight of the Heinzel- 
74 


St. Ursula 

mannchen, but do what she would she could never compass 
it. She one time strewed peas all down the stairs that 
they might fall and hurt themselves, and that so she 
might see them next morning. But this project missed, 
and since that time the Heinzelmannchen have totally 
disappeared, as has been everywhere the case, owing to 
the curiosity of people, which has at all times been the 
destruction of so much of what was beautiful in the world. 
“ The Heinzelmannchen, in consequence of this, went off 
all in a body out of the town, with music playing, but 
people could only hear the music, for no one could see the 
mannikins themselves, who forthwith got into a ship 
and went away, whither no one knows. The good times, 
however, are said to have disappeared from Cologne 
along with the Heinzelmannchen.” 

SI. Ursula 

One of the most interesting figures in connexion with 
Rhenish mythology is that of St. Ursula, whose legend is 
as follows : 

Just two centuries after the birth of Christ, Vionest was 
king of Britain. Happy in his realm, his subjects were 
prosperous and contented, but care was in the heart of the 
monarch, for he was childless. At length his consort, 
Daria, bore him a daughter, who as she grew up in years 
increased in holiness, until all men regarded her as a 
saint, and she, devoting herself to a religious life, refused 
all offers of marriage, to the great grief of her parents, 
who were again troubled by the thought that their dynasty 
would fail for want of an heir. Charmed with the rumour 
of her virtues, a German prince, Agrippus, asked her as a 
wife for his son, but the suit was declined by the maiden 
until an angel appeared to her in a dream and said that 

75 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

the nuptials ought to take place. In obedience to this 
heavenly mentor, St. Ursula no longer urged her former 
scruples, and her father hastened to make preparations of 
suitable magnificence for her departure to the Rhine, on 
whose banks her future home was to be. Eleven thousand 
virgins were selected from the noblest families of Britain 
to accompany their princess, who, marshalling them on 
the seashore, bade them sing a hymn to the Most High 
and dismiss all fears of the ocean, for she had been gifted 
with a divine knowledge of navigation and would guide 
them safely on their way. 

Accordingly St. Ursula dismissed all the seamen, and 
standing on the deck of the principal vessel, she gave 
orders to her eleven thousand maiden followers, who, under 
the influence of inspiration, flitted over the ships dressed 
in virgin white, now tending the sails, now fixing the 
ropes, now guiding the helm, until they reached the 
mouth of the Rhine, up which they sailed in saintly 
procession to Cologne. Here they were received with 
great honours by the Roman governor of the place; but 
soon they left the city to ascend the stream to Basel on 
their way to Rome, to which holy city St. Ursula had de¬ 
termined upon making a pilgrimage. Wherever upon their 
journey they met the officers of state they were received 
as befitted their heavenly mission, and from Basel were 
accompanied by Pantulus, who was afterward canonized, 
and whose portrait is to be seen in the church of St. Ursula. 
Once at Rome Pope Cyriacus himself was so affected 
by their devoted piety that, after praying with them at 
the tombs of the apostles, he determined on abdicating 
the pontifical office to accompany them on their return 
down the Rhine to Cologne. 

At Mayence they were joined by Prince Coman, the son 

76 


Saint or Goddess 

of Agrippus, who for love of his betrothed at once forsook 
the errors of his pagan faith and was baptized. The 
eleven thousand virgins, with their sainted leader, her 
husband, and Pope Cyriacus, passed rapidly to Cologne, 
where, however, they were not long destined to live in 
peace. A horde of barbarians from the North invaded 
the place, and having gained possession of the city, they 
slew the virgin retinue of St. Ursula, the venerable Pope, 
the saint herself, and her spouse Coman, after inflicting 
the most horrible tortures upon them. Some were nailed 
living to the cross; some were burned ; others stoned; 
but the most refined cruelties were reserved for the most 
distinguished victims. Look on the walls of the church 
of St. Ursula and you will see depicted the sufferings of the 
young martyr and of her youthful husband. Her chapel 
yet contains her effigy with a dove at her feet—fit emblem 
of her purity and faith and loving-kindness; while the 
devout may, in the same church, behold the religiously 
preserved bones of the eleven thousand virgins. 

Saint or Goddess ? 

The sainthood of St. Ursula is distinctly doubtful, and the 
number of her retinue, eleven thousand, has been proved 
to be an error in monkish calligraphy. St. Ursula is, 
indeed, the Teutonic goddess Ursa, or Horsel. In many 
parts of Germany a custom existed during the Middle 
Ages of rolling about a ship on :wheels, much to the 
scandal of the clergy, and this undoubtedly points to 
moon-worship, the worship of Holda, or Ursula, whom 
German poets of old regarded as sailing over the deep 
blue of the heavens in her silver boat. A great company 
of maidens, the stars, follow in her train. She is sup¬ 
posed, her nightly pilgrimage over, to enter certain hills. 

77 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Thus in the later guise of Venus she entered the Horsel- 
berg in Thuringia, in which she imprisoned the enchanted 
Tannhauser, and there is good reason to believe that she 
also presided over the Ercildoune, or Hill of Ursula, in 
the south of Scotland, the modern Earlston, after which 
Thomas the Rhymer took his territorial designation, and 
whose story later became fused with her myth in the old 
Scottish ballad of Thomas the Rhymer . Thus we observe 
how it is possible for a pagan myth to become an incident 
in Christian hagiology. 

Satan in Rhine Story 

In the legends of the Rhine the picturesque figure of his 
Satanic majesty is frequently presented, as in the legends 
of ‘The Sword-slipper of Solingen,’ ‘The Architect of 
Cologne Cathedral/ and several other tales. The cir¬ 
cumstances of his appearance are distinctly Teutonic in 
character, and are such as to make one doubt that the 
Devil of the German peoples has evolved from the classi¬ 
cal satyr. May it not be that the Teutonic folk possessed 
some nature-spirit from which they evolved a Satanic 
figure of their own? Against this, of course, could be 
quoted the fact that the medieval conception of the Devil 
was sophisticated by the Church, which in turn was strongly 
influenced by classical types. 

Affinity of the Rhine Legends with Romance 
But on the whole the legends of the Rhine exhibit much 
more affinity with medieval romance than with myth or 
folklore. 1 A large number of them are based upon plots 
which can be shown to be almost universal, and which 

1 See author’s Dictionary of Medieval Romance (London, 1913), 
preface, and article ‘ Romance, Rise and Origin of.’ 

78 



Venus and Tannhauser 

Ferd. Lecke 


78 












Affinity of Rhine Legends with Romance 

occur again and again in French and British story. One 
of the commonest of these concerns the crusader who, re¬ 
jected by his lady-love, spends hopeless years in the East, 
or, having married before setting out for the Orient, returns 
to find his bride the wife of another. The crusader exer¬ 
cised a strong influence upon the literature of medieval 
Europe, and that influence we find in a very marked 
degree in the legends of the Rhine. Again, a number of 
these tales undoubtedly consist of older materials not 
necessarily mythical in origin, over which a later medieval 
colour has been cast. Unhappily many of these beautiful 
old legends have been greatly marred by the absurd 
sentimentality of the German writers of the early 
nineteenth century, and their dramatis personae , instead 
of exhibiting the characteristics of sturdy medieval Ger¬ 
man folk, possess the mincing and lackadaisical manners 
which mark the Franco-German novel of a century ago. 
This contrasts most ludicrously in many cases with the 
simple, almost childlike, honesty which is typical of all 
early Teutonic literature. Had a Charles Lamb, a Leigh 
Hunt, or an Edgar Allan Poe recast these tales, how 
different would have been their treatment! Before the 
time of Schiller and Goethe French models prevailed in 
German literature. These wizards of the pen recovered 
the German spirit of mystery, and brought back to their 
haunts gnomes, kobolds, and water-sprites. But the 
mischief had been done ere they dawned upon the horizon, 
and there were other parts of Germany which appeared to 
them more suitable for literary presentment than the Rhine, 
save perhaps in drama. Moreover, the inherent sentimen¬ 
tality of the German character, however fitted to bring out 
the mysterious atmosphere which clings to these legends, 
has weakened them considerably. 


79 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


The Poetry of the Rhine 

Robert Louis Stevenson, exiled in the South Pacific 
islands, used to speak with passionate fondness of the 
rivers of his native Scotland, the country he loved so 
dearly, but which the jealous fates forbade him to visit 
during fully half his life. Garry and Tummel, Tweed 
and Tay—he used to think of these as of something 
almost sacred; while even the name of that insignificant 
stream, the Water of Leith, sounded on his ear like sweet 
music, evoking a strangely tender and pathetic emotion. 
And this emotion, crystallized so beautifully by Stevenson 
in one of his essays in Memories and Portraits , must have 
been felt, too, by many other exiles wandering in foreign 
parts; for surely an analogous feeling has been experienced 
sometimes by every traveller of sensitive and imaginative 
temperament, particularly the traveller exiled irrevocably 
from his home and longing passionately to see it. 
Horatius, about to plunge into the Tiber, addressed it as 
his father and god, charging it to care well for his life 
and fortunes—fortunes in which those of all Rome were 
involved for the time being. Ecce Tiberl was the glad 
cry of the Romans on beholding the Tay—a cry which 
shows once again with what ardent devotion they thought 
of the river which passed by their native city; while 
Naaman the Syrian, told that his sickness would be cured 
would he but lave his leprous limbs in the Jordan, 
exclaimed aghast against a prescription which appeared 
to him nothing short of sacrilegious and insulting, and 
declared that there were better and nobler streams in his 
own land. Even the deadly complaint with which he 
was smitten could not shake his fidelity to these, could 
not alter his conviction that they were superior to alien 
80 


The Poetry of the Rhine 

streams; and the truth is that nearly every great river— 
perhaps because its perpetual motion makes it seem verily 
a living thing—has a way of establishing itself in the 
hearts of those who dwell by its banks. 

The Rhine is no exception to this rule; on the con¬ 
trary, it is a notable illustration thereof. From time 
immemorial the name of the mighty stream has been 
sacred to the Germans, while gradually a halo of romantic 
glamour has wound itself about the river, a halo which 
appeals potently even to many who have never seen the 
Vaterland. A m Rhein !—is there not magic in the words ? 
And how they call up dreams of robber barons, each with 
his strange castle built on the edge of a precipice over¬ 
looking the rushing stream ; fiends of glade and dell, 
sprites of the river and whirlpool, weird huntsmen, and 
all the dramatis personae of legend and tradition. 

The Rhine has ever held a wide fame in the domain of 
literature. For there is scarcely a place on the river’s 
banks but has its legend which has been enshrined in 
song, and some of these songs are so old that the names 
of their makers have long since been forgotten. Yes, we 
have to go very far back indeed would we study the poetry 
of the Rhine adequately ; we have to penetrate deeply into 
the Middle Ages, dim and mysterious. And looking back 
thus, and pondering on these legendary and anonymous 
writings, a poem which soon drifts into recollection is 
one whose scene is laid near the little town of Lorch, or 
Lordch. Hard by this town is a mountain, known to 
geographers as Kedrich, but hailed popularly as ‘ the 
Devil’s Ladder.’ Nor is the name altogether misplaced 
or undeserved, the mountain being exceeding precipitous, 
and its beetling, rocky sides seeming well-nigh inaccessible. 
This steepness, however, did not daunt the hero of the 

f 81 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

poem in question, a certain Sir Hilchen von Lorch. A 
saddle, said to have belonged to him, is still preserved in 
the town ; but on what manner of steed he was wont to 
ride is not told explicitly, and truly it must have been a 
veritable Bucephalus. For the nameless poet relates that 
Sir Hilchen, being enamoured of a lady whom angry 
gnomes had carried to the top of Kedrich and imprisoned 
there, rode at full gallop right up the side of the moun¬ 
tain, and rescued the fair one ! 

“ Though my lady-love to a tower be ta’en, 

Whose top the eagle might fail to gain, 

Nor portal of iron nor battlement’s height 
Shall bar me out from her presence bright: 

Why has Love wings but that he may fly 
Over the walls, be they never so high ? ” 

So the tale begins, while at the end the knight is repre¬ 
sented exulting in his doughty action: 

“ Hurrah, hurrah ! ’Tis gallantly done ! 

The spell is broken, the bride is won ! 

From the magic hold of the mountain-sprite 
Down she comes with her dauntless knight! 

Holy St. Bernard, shield us all 

From the wrath of the elves of the Whisper-Thal.” 

A ndernach 

There are several different versions of this legend, each 
of them just as extraordinary as the foregoing. It is 
evident, moreover, that matter of this sort appealed very 
keenly to the medieval dwellers by the Rhine, much of 
the further legendary lore encircling the river being con¬ 
cerned with deeds no less amazing than this of Sir 
Hilchen’s; and among things which recount such events 
a notable instance is a poem consecrated to the castle 
of Andernach. Here, once upon a time, dwelt a count 
bearing the now famous name of Siegfried, and being of 
82 


Andernach 

a religious disposition, he threw in his lot with a band of 
crusaders. For a long while, in consequence, he was 
absent from his ancestral domain; and at length, re¬ 
turning thither, he was told by various lying tongues that 
his beautiful wife, Genofeva, had been unfaithful to him 
in his absence, the chief bearer of the fell news being 
one Golo. This slanderer induced Siegfried to banish 
Genofeva straightway, and so the lady fled from the 
castle to the neighbouring forest of Laach, where a little 
later she gave birth to a boy. Thenceforth mother and 
son lived together in the wilds, and though these were 
infested by wild robbers, and full of wolves and other 
ravening beasts, the pair of exiles contrived to go 
unscathed year after year, while, more wonderful still, 
they managed to find daily sustenance. And now 
romance reached a happy moment; for behold, Count 
Siegfried went hunting one day in the remoter parts of 
the forest, and fortuitously he passed by the very place 
where the two wanderers were living—his wife and the 
child whom he had never seen. 

’Tis in the woody vales of Laach the hunter’s horn is wound, 

And fairly flies the falcon, and deeply bays the hound; 

But little recks Count Siegfried for hawk or quarry now: 

A weight is on his noble heart, a gloom is on his brow. 

Oh ! he hath driven from his home—he cannot from his mind— 

A lady, ah ! the loveliest of all her lovely kind ; 

His wife, his Genofeva!—and at the word of one, 

The blackest traitor ever looked upon the blessed sun. 

He hath let the hunters hurry by, and turned his steed aside, 

And ridden where the blue lake spreads its waters calm and wide, 
And lo ! beneath a linden-tree, there sits a lady fair, 

But like some savage maiden clad in sylvan pageant rare. 

Her kirtle’s of the dappled skin of the rapid mountain roe ; 

A quiver at her back she bears, beside her lies a bow ; 

Her feet are bare, her golden hair adown her shoulders streams, 
And in her lap a rosy child is smiling in its dreams. 


83 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

The count had never thought to see his wife again. 
He imagined that she had long since starved to death or 
been devoured; and now, finding her alive, his pulses 
quicken. He knows well that only a miracle could have 
preserved her during all this period of estrangement, and 
reflects that on behalf of the virtuous alone are miracles 
worked. Seeing herein ample proof of Genofeva’s 
innocence, he welcomes her back to his arms and with 
beating heart bears her to the castle: 

Oh ! there was joy in Andernach upon that happy night: 

The palace rang with revelry, the city blazed with light: 

And when the moon her paler beams upon the turrets shed, 
Above the Roman gate was seen the traitor Golo’s head. 


The Brothers 

Doubtless it was the thaumaturgic element in this pretty 
romance which chiefly made it popular among its pristine 
audiences, yet it was probably the pathos with which it 
is coloured that granted it longevity, causing it to be 
handed down from generation to generation long before 
the advent of the printing-press. 

Pathos, of course, figures largely in all folk-literature, and 
the story of Count Siegfried is by no means the only tale 
of a touching nature embodied in the early poetry of the 
Rhine, another similar work which belongs to this 
category being a poem associated with Liebenstein and 
Sterrenberg, two castles not far from each other. These 
places, so goes the tale, once belonged to a nobleman 
who chanced to have as his ward a young lady of singular 
loveliness. He had also two sons, of whom the elder 
was heir to Liebenstein, while the younger was destined 
to inherit Sterrenberg. These brothers were fast friends, 
and this partitioning of the paternal estates never begot 
84 



Count Siegfried discovers his Wife and Child 

Hiram Ellis 


84 










The Brothers 

so much as an angry word between them; but, alas ! in an 
evil day they both fell in love with the same woman—their 
father’s ward. Such events have happened often, and 
usually they have ended in bitter strife ; but the elder of 
the young men was of magnanimous temperament, and, 
convinced that the lady favoured the other’s advances 
more than his, he left him to woo and win her, and so in 
due course it was announced that the younger brother and 
she were affianced. Anon the date fixed for their nuptials 
drew near, but it happened that, in the interim, the young 
knight of Sterrenberg had become infected with a desire 
to join a crusade; and now, despite the entreaties of his 
fianUe and his father, he mustered a troop of men-at-arms, 
led them to join the Emperor Conrad at Frankfort, and 
set off for the Holy Land. Year after year went by; still 
the warrior was absent, and betimes his friends and 
relations began to lose all hope of ever seeing him again, 
imagining that he must have fallen at the hands of the 
infidel. Yet this suspicion was never actually confirmed, 
and the elder brother, far from taking the advantage 
which the strange situation offered, continued to eschew 
paying any addresses to his brother’s intended bride, and 
invariably treated her simply as a beloved sister. Some¬ 
times, no doubt, it occurred to him that he might win her 
yet; but of a sudden his horizon was changed totally, and 
changed in a most unexpected fashion. The rover came 
back! And lo! it was not merely a tale of war that he 
brought with him, for it transpired that while abroad 
he had proved false to his vows and taken to himself 
a wife, a damsel of Grecian birth who was even now in 
his train. The knight of Liebenstein was bitterly incensed 
on hearing the news, and sent his brother a fierce challenge 
to meet him in single combat; but scarcely had they 

85 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

met and drawn swords ere the injured lady intervened. She 
reminded the young men of their sacred bond of fraternity; 
she implored them to desist from the crime of bloodshed. 
Then, having averted this, she experienced a great longing 
to renounce all earthly things, and took the veil in a 
neighbouring convent, thus shattering for ever the re¬ 
kindled hopes of her elder suitor. But he, the hero of the 
drama, was not the only sufferer, for his brother was not to 
go unpunished for his perfidy. A strange tale went forth, a 
scandalous tale to the effect that the Grecian damsel was 
unfaithful to her spouse. Sterrenberg began to rue his ill- 
timed marriage, and ultimately was forced to banish his 
wife altogether. And so, each in his wind-swept castle— 
for their father was now dead—the two knights lived on, 
brooding often on the curious events of which their lives 
had been composed. The elder never married, and the 
younger had no inclination to take that step a second time. 

They never entered court or town, 

Nor looked on woman’s face; 

But childless to the grave went down, 

The last of all their race. 

And still upon the mountain fair 
Are seen two castles grey, 

That, like their lords, together there 
Sink slowly to decay. 

The gust that shakes the tottering stone 
On one burg’s battlement, 

Upon the other’s rampart lone 
Hath equal fury spent. 

And when through Sternberg’s shattered wall 
The misty moonbeams shine, 

Upon the crumbling walls they fall 
Of dreary Liebenstein. 


This legend is recounted here to illustrate the 
the Rhine. A variant of it is given on p. 171. 


86 


poetry of 


Argenfels 


A rgenfels 

But the warriors who flit across the lore of Rhineland 
were not all so unfortunate, and one who fared better was 
Sir Dietrich of Schwarzenbeck. Marching by the Rhine 
on his way to join a band of crusaders, this Dietrich 
chanced to pass a few days at the castle of Argenfels, 
whose owner was the father of two daughters. The 
younger of the pair, Bertha by name, soon fell in love 
with the guest, while he, too, was deeply impressed by her 
charm; but silken dalliance was not for him at present— 
for was he not under a vow to try to redeem the Holy 
Sepulchre ?—and so he resumed his journey to Palestine. 
Here an arduous campaign awaited him. In the course of 
a fierce battle he was wounded sorely, and while trying 
to escape from the field he was taken prisoner. This 
was a terrible fate, a far worse fate than death, for the 
Saracens usually sold their captives as slaves; and Sir 
Dietrich as he languished in captivity, wondering whether 
he was destined to spend the rest of his days serving the 
infidel in some menial capacity, vowed that if he should 
ever regain his native Germany he would build there a 
chapel to St. Peter. Nor did his piety go unrewarded, for 
shortly afterward a body of his icompatriots came to his 
aid, worsted his foes, and set him free. A joyful day was 
this for the crusader, but it was not his pious vow that he 
thought of first; he made for Argenfels, eager to see 
again the bright eyes of the lady who had enchanted him. 
Day and night he rode, and as he drew nearer to the 
castle his passion grew stronger within him; but, alas ! 
on reaching his destination his hopes were suddenly 
dashed to the ground. War had meantime been waged 
in the neighbourhood of Bertha’s home; her father had 

87 


Hero Tales ^§P Legends of the Rhine 

been involved, his castle burnt to the ground, and the 
two daughters had disappeared. Peradventure they had 
perished, surmised the knight; but he swore he would 
leave nothing undone which might lead to the restoration 
of his beloved. Making inquiries far and near throughout 
the country, he heard at last from an old shepherd that 
two ladies of gentle birth were sequestering themselves in 
a disused hermitage near the summit of a mountain called 
Stromberg. “ Is it indeed they?” thought Sir Dietrich. 
He clambered up the rocky steep leading to the hermitage 
and a wistful sound greeted his ears, the sound of maidens* 
voices offering up vespers. “ Ave Maria , stella maris ,” 
they sang, and in the coolness of the evening the notes 
vibrated with a new, strange loveliness, for the lover knew 
that he had not climbed the Stromberg in vain. He 
returned, bringing Bertha with him, and in due course 
she became his bride. Yet the fairest rose has its thorns, 
and the happiness of the pair was not to be wholly 
undimmed by clouds. For Bertha’s sister, showing a 
curious perversity, expressed a desire to remain in the 
abode which had sheltered her of late, and nothing could 
induce her to alter this decision. Sir Dietrich pleaded with 
her again and again, and of a sudden, while thus engaged, 
he thought of the vow he had made while a captive—the 
vow he had not kept. Here, possibly—here in this 
shadow darkening the joy of his bridal—was a message 
from on high! So straightway he built his chapel, 
choosing as situation therefor a spot hard by the wind¬ 
swept hermitage, and in this shrine to St. Peter dwelt 
Bertha’s sister to the end of her days. Was it, mayhap, 
jealousy and a dart from Cupid’s bow which kept her there; 
and was she, too, enamoured of Sir Dietrich? Well, the 
poet who tells the story certainly thought so! 

88 


Drinking Songs of the Rhine 

Drinking Songs of the Rhine 

It were a lengthy matter to recount the many other poems 
of Rhineland akin to those mustered above, and enough 
has been said to indicate their general characteristics; 
while an ancient Rhine classic of yet a different kind, 
The Mouse Tower, given elsewhere, is so familiar owing 
to Southey’s English version that it were superfluous to 
offer any synopsis or criticism of it here. Then a class 
of poems of which the great river’s early literature is 
naturally replete are those concerned with the growing of 
the vine and the making of Rhenish, prominent among 
these being one consecrated to Bacharach, a town which 
was a famous centre of the wine industry in the Middle 
Ages. Near Bacharach there is a huge stone in the Rhine 
which, known as ‘ the Altar of Bacchus,’ is visible only 
on rare occasions, when the river chances to be parti¬ 
cularly low; and in olden times, whenever this stone was 
seen, the event was hailed by the townsfolk as an omen 
that their next grape harvest would be an exceptionally 
successful one. It is with this ‘ Altar of Bacchus ’ that 
the poem in question deals. But coming to modern 
times, many of the Rhine drinking songs are also con¬ 
cerned to some extent with patriotism—an element which 
seems to go hand in hand with the bacchanal the world 
over !—and a typical item in this category is the Rhein - 
weinlied of Georg Hervegh, a poet of the first half of 
the nineteenth century. A better patriotic song of Rhine¬ 
land, however, is one by a slightly earlier poet, Wolfgang 
Muller, a native of Konigswinter, near Bonn, who sings 
with passionate devotion of the great river, dwelling 
lovingly on its natural beauties, and exalting it above 
all other streams. His song appears to have been 

89 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

composed when the writer was undergoing a temporary 
period of exile from the Vaterland , for a somewhat 
pathetic and plaintive air pervades each verse, and the 
poet refers to the Rhine as a memory rather than as 
something actually before his eyes. But very different is 
another fine patriotic song of which it behoves to speak, 
the work of August Kopisch, a contemporary of Muller. 
This latter song treats of an incident in the Napoleonic 
wars, and Blucher and his forces are represented as 
encamped on the Rhine and as debating whether to 
march forward against their French foes. Nor is it 
necessary to add, perhaps, that they decide to do so, for 
otherwise no German singer would have handled the 
theme! 

But what, asks someone, is really the brightest gem 
of Rhineland poetry? while someone else adds that the 
majority of the writers cited above are but little known, 
and inquires whether none of the great German authors 
were ever inspired to song by their beloved river. The 
name of Heinrich Heine naturally comes to mind in this 
relation—comes to mind instantly on account of what is 
surely his masterpiece, Die Lorelei —a poem already dealt 
with. 

But Heine’s version far transcends all others, and ponder¬ 
ing on its beauty, we think first of its gentle, andante 
music, a music which steals through the senses like a 
subtle perfume : 

Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten, 

Dass ich so traurig bin ; 

Ein Marchen aus alten Zeiten, 

Das kommt mir nioht aus dem Sinn. 

There, surely, is a sound as lovely as the fateful maiden 
herself ever sang; and here, again, is a verse which is a 
90 


Drinking Songs of the Rhine 

tour de force in the craft of landscape-painting; for not 
only are the externals of the scene summoned vividly 
before the reader’s eyes, but some of the mystery and 
strangely wistful appeal of nature are likewise found in 
the lines: 

Die Luft ist kiihl und es dunkelt 
Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein ; 

Der Gipfel des Rerges funkelt 
Im Abendsonnenschein. 


91 


CHAPTER III : CLEVES 
TO THE LOWENBURG 

Lohengrin 


HE tale or myth of the Knight of the Swan who 



came to the succour of the youthful Duchess of 


JL Brabant is based upon motives more or less 
common in folklore—the enchantment of human beings 
into swans, and the taboo whereby, as in the case of 
Cupid and Psyche, the husband forbids the wife to question 
him as to his identity or to look upon him. The myth 
has been treated by both French and German romancers, 
but the latter attached it loosely to the Grail legend, 
thus turning it to mystical use. 

As a purely German story it is found at the conclusion of 
Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival from which the 
following version is drawn. The name of the hero as 
written by Wolfram (Loherangrln) may possibly be 
traced to Garin le Loherin or Garin of Lorraine. 
Wagner’s version is taken from the same source, but 
the mighty master of melody altered many of the details 
for dramatic and other reasons. 

The principal French versions of the romance are Le 
Chevalier au Cygne and Helyas , and there are medieval 
English forms of these . 2 

The Knight of the Swan 

In a dungeon in the castle of Cleves lay Elsa of Brabant, 
languishing in captivity. Her father, the Duke of 
Brabant, had ere he died appointed his most powerful 

1 See my Dictionary of Medieval Romance , articles ‘Grail,’‘Parzival,’ 
‘ Perceval,’ and ‘ Garin.’ 


2 Op. cit. 
9 2 


THE CASTLE OF CLEVES 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page 92 



































The Knight of the Swan 

vassal, one Frederick of Telramund, to be her guardian; 
but he, seeking only the advancement of his own ends, 
shamefully abused the confidence of his lord. Using his 
authority as Elsa’s guardian, he sought to compel her to 
become his wife, and threw her into prison to await 
the wedding-day, knowing well that none would dare to 
dispute his action. 

An appeal was made on Elsa’s behalf to the Emperor, 
Henry I, who decreed that she should choose a champion, 
so that the matter might be settled by combat. But, alas! 
there was not a knight who would venture to match his 
skill against that of Frederick, who was a giant in stature 
and an expert in sword-play. In accordance with the 
Emperor’s decree Telramund sent out a herald at stated 
times to proclaim his readiness to do battle with any who 
would champion the cause of Elsa. 

Time passed, yet the challenge was not accepted, and at 
length the day was fixed for the bridal. Behind her 
prison bars the lady wept ceaselessly, and called upon the 
Virgin to save her from the threatened fate. In her 
despair she beat her breast with her chaplet, whereon was 
hung a tiny silver bell. Now this little bell was possessed 
of magic properties, for when it was rung the sound, small 
at first as the tinkling of a fairy lure, grew in volume the 
further it travelled till it resembled the swelling of a 
mighty chorus. Rarely was its tone heard, and never 
save when its owner was in dire straits, as on the present 
occasion. When Elsa beat her breast with it, therefore, 
its magical qualities responded to her distress, and its 
faint, sweet tinkle fell on her ear. 

Far away over hill and dale went the sound of the bell, 
growing ever richer and louder, till at length it reached 
the temple where Parsifal and his knights guarded the 

93 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

Holy Grail. To them it seemed that the swelling notes 
contained an appeal for help directed to the Holy Vessel 
over which they kept vigil. While they debated thereon 
a loud and mysterious voice was heard bidding Parsifal 
send his son Lohengrin to the rescue of Elsa of Brabant, 
whom he must take for his wife, yet without revealing to 
her his identity. 

The awed knights recognized the voice as that of the 
Holy Grail, and Lohengrin at once set out, bound he 
knew not whither. When he reached the shores of the 
Rhine he found awaiting him a boat drawn by a stately 
swan. Taking it as a sign from Heaven, he stepped into 
the little boat and was carried up the Rhine, to the sound 
of the most exquisite music. 

It was the day on which Elsa was to be wedded to her 
tyrant. She had spent the night in tears and bitter 
lamentations, and now, weary and distraught, too hope¬ 
less even for tears, she looked out from the bars of her 
prison with dull, despairing eyes. Suddenly she heard the 
melodious strains and a moment later saw the approach of 
a swan-drawn boat, wherein lay a sleeping knight. Hope 
leapt within her, for she remembered the prophecy of an old 
nun, long since dead, that a sleeping knight would rescue 
her from grave peril. Directly he stepped ashore the 
youth made his way to the place of her confinement and, 
espying her face at the heavily barred window, knelt 
before her and begged that she would take him for 
her champion. 

At that moment the blast of a trumpet was heard, fol¬ 
lowed by the voice of the herald as, for the last time, he 
challenged any knight to take up arms on behalf of Elsa 
of Brabant. Lohengrin boldly accepted the challenge, 
and Telramund, when the news reached him of the 
94 


The Knight of the Swan 

unexpected opposition, on the very day he had appointed for 
his wedding, was surprised and enraged beyond measure, 
yet he dared not refuse to do battle with the stranger 
knight, because of the Emperor’s decree. So it was 
arranged that the combat should take place immediately. 
News of it reached the people of Cleves, and a great con¬ 
course gathered to witness the spectacle, all of them 
secretly in sympathy with the persecuted maiden, though 
these feelings were carefully concealed from the ruth¬ 
less Telramund. 

Fierce indeed was the combat, for Lohengrin, though less 
powerfully built than his gigantic opponent, was neverthe¬ 
less tall and strong, and well versed in the arts of war. 
At length he laid his enemy in the dust with a well-aimed 
sword-stroke, and the crowd broke into cheers. The 
combat was over, and Elsa was free! 

Heeding not the acclamations of the people, Lohengrin 
strode toward Elsa and again knelt at her feet. The 
blushing maiden bade him name his reward, whereupon 
the knight begged her hand in marriage, confessing, how¬ 
ever, that he might only remain with her so long as she 
did not question him with regard to his identity. It 
seemed a small condition to Elsa, who willingly promised 
to restrain any curiosity she might feel concerning his 
name and place of abode. The cheers of the populace 
were redoubled when they learned that Elsa was to bestow 
her hand on the Swan Knight. 

In a few weeks the couple were married, and henceforth 
for a good many years they lived together very happily. 
Three sons were born to them, who grew in time to be 
handsome and chivalrous lads, of noble bearing and 
knightly disposition. Then it was that Elsa, who had 
hitherto faithfully kept her promise to her husband, began 

95 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

to fancy that she and her sons had a grievance in that 
the latter were not permitted to bear their father’s 
name. 

For a time she brooded in silence over her grievance, but 
at length it was fanned into open rebellion by a breath of 
outside suspicion. Some of the people looked askance at 
the knight whose name no one knew. So Elsa openly 
reproached her husband with his secrecy, and begged that 
for the benefit of their sons he would reveal his name and 
station. Even the children of humble parents, the children 
of the peasants, of their own retainers, had a right to their 
father’s name, and why not her sons also ? 

Lohengrin paled at her foolish words, for to him they were 
the sign that he must leave his wife and family and betake 
himself once more to the temple of the Holy Grail. 

“ Oh, Elsa,” he said sorrowfully, “ thou knowest not 
what thou hast done. Thy promise is broken, and to-day 
I must leave thee for ever.” And with that he blew a 
blast on his silver horn. 

Elsa had already repented her rash words, and right 
earnestly she besought him to remain by her side. But, 
alas ! her tears and pleadings were in vain, for, even as 
her entreaties were uttered, she heard the exquisite strains 
of music which had first heralded her lover’s approach, 
while from the window of the castle she espied the swan- 
boat rapidly drawing toward the shore. 

With grave tenderness Lohengrin bade farewell to his 
wife and family, first, however, revealing to them his 
identity, and commending them to the care of some of his 
trusty followers. 

Tradition tells that Elsa did not long survive the loss of 
her beloved husband, but her sons became brave knights, 
well worthy of the proud name they bore. 

96 


A Legend of Liege 


A Legend of LUge 

A legend of Li6ge! and is not Li6ge itself now almost 
legendary? Its venerable church, its world-famous 
library replete with the priceless treasures of the past, 
“ with records stored of deeds long since forgot,” where 
are they?—but crumbling clusters of ruins fired by the 
barbarian torch whose glow, we were told, was to enlighten 
an ignorant and uncultured Europe! But one gem re¬ 
mains: the wonderful Hotel de Ville, type of the Renais¬ 
sance spirit in Flanders. Li6ge may be laid in ruins, but 
the memory of what it was can never die: 

Athens in death is nobler far 

Than breathing cities of the West; 

and the same may be said of those splendours in stone, 
those wonders of medieval architecture, even the blackened 
walls of which possess a dignity and beauty which will ever 
assist the imagination to re-create the picture of what has 
been. 

Liege is a city of the Middle Ages. Time was when the 
place boasted but a single forge; and though bucklers 
were heaped beside the anvil, and swords and spears 
lay waiting for repair, the blacksmith leant against his 
door-post, gazing idly up the hill-side. Gradually he was 
aware of a figure, which seemed to have grown into 
shape from a furze-bush, or to have risen from behind 
a stone; and as it descended the slope he eyed curiously 
the grimy face, long beard, and squat form of what he was 
half unwilling to recognize as a human being. Hobbling 
awkwardly, and shrugging his shoulders as though cold, 
the man came in time to the smithy door. 

“ What! Jacques Perron—idle when work is to be done ? 

g 97 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Idle smith ! idle smith ! The horse lacks the bit, and the 
rider the spur. 

‘ Ill fares the hide when the buckler wants mending; 

Ill fares the plough when the coulter wants tending.’ 

Idle smith ! idle smith !” 

“ Idle enough,” quoth Jacques. “ Pm as idle as you are 
ugly; but I can’t get charcoal any more than you can get 
beauty, so I must stand still, and you be content with your 
face, though I’d fain earn a loaf and a cup full enough for 
both of us this winter morning.” 

Though the strange man must have known he was 
horribly ugly—that is, if he ever bent to drink of the clear 
bright waters of the lovely Meuse, which reflected in those 
days every lily-bell and every grass-blade which grew 
upon its banks, and gave a faithful portraiture in its cool 
waters of every creature that leant over them—though he 
was certainly the most frightful creature that had ever 
met the blacksmith’s sight, it was evident enough that he 
did not like being called Ugly-face. But when the honest, 
good-natured smith spoke of earning a draught for his 
new acquaintance as well as himself, he smacked his ugly 
lips and twisted out a sort of smile which made him still 
more hideous. 

“Ah, ah!” said he, “wine’s good in winter weather, 
wine’s good in winter weather. Listen, listen! Jacques 
Perron 1 listen, listen ! Go you up the hill-side—yonder, 
yonder 1 ” and he pointed with a yellow finger, which 
seemed to stretch out longer and longer as the smith 
strained his eyes up the slope, until the digit looked quite 
as long as the tallest chimney that smoked over Li^ge. 
“Listen, listen!” and he sang in a voice like the breath 
of a huge bellows : 

98 


A Legend of Liege 

“ ‘ Wine’s good in winter weather; 

Up the hill-side near the heather 
Go and gather the black earth, 

It shall give your fire birth. 

Ill fares the hide when the buckler wants mending; 

Ill fares the plough when the coulter wants tending: 

Go ! Go ! ’ 

“ Mind my cup of wine—mind my cup of wine ! ” As he 
ended this rude chant Jacques saw the long finger run 
back into the shrivelled hand, as a telescope slips back 
into its case, and then the hand was wrapped up in the 
dingy garment, and with a dreadful shiver, and a chattering 
of teeth as loud as the noise of the anvils now heard on 
the same spot, the ugly man was wafted away round the 
corner of the building like a thick gust of smoke from a 
newly fed furnace. 

“ Mind my cup of wine—mind my cup of wine! ” rang 
again in the ears of the startled Jacques, and after running 
several times round his house in vain pursuit of the voice, 
he sat down on the cold anvil to scratch his head and 
think. It was quite certain he had work to do, and it was 
as certain as half a score searches could make it that he 
had not a single coin in his pouch to buy charcoal to do 
it with. He was reflecting that the old man was a very 
strange creature—he was more than half afraid to think 
who he might be—when in the midst of his cogitation he 
heard his three children calling out for their morning 
meal. Not a loaf had Jacques in store, and twisting his 
hide apron round his loins, he muttered, “ Demon or 
no demon, HI go,” and strode out of the smithy and 
up the hill-side as fast as though he feared that if he 
went slowly his courage would not carry him as far up 
as the heather-bush which the long yellow finger had 
pointed out. 


99 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

When the young wife of Jacques came to look for her 
husband, she saw him returning with his apron full of 
black morsels of shining stone. She smiled at him; but 
when he threw them on the furnace and went to get a brand 
to set them alight, she looked solemn' enough, for she 
thought he had left his wits on the hill-top. Great was 
her surprise when she saw the stones burn ! But her joy 
was greater than her surprise when she heard her hus¬ 
band’s hammer ring merrily, and found the wage of the 
smith all spared for home use, instead of being set aside 
for the charcoal-burner. That night Jacques had two full 
wine-cups and, setting them on the anvil, had scarcely 
said to himself, “ I wonder whether He'll come ! ” when 
in walked the Old Man and, nodding familiarly, seated 
himself on the head of the big hammer. Jacques was a 
bold and grateful as well as a good-natured fellow, and 
in a few minutes he and his visitor were on excellent 
terms. No more shivering or chattering of teeth was 
seen or heard in the smithy that night. The black stones 
burned away merrily on the hearth, and the bright flames 
shone on the honest face of the smith as he hobnobbed 
with his companion, and looked as though he really 
thought the stranger as handsome as he certainly had 
been useful. He sang his best songs and told his best 
stories, and when the wine had melted his soul he told 
his new friend how dearly he loved his wife and what 
charming, dear creatures his children were. “ Demon or 
no demon,” he swore the stranger was a good fellow, and 
though the visitor spoke but little, he seemed to enjoy his 
company very much. He laughed at the jokes, smiled at 
the songs, and once rather startled Jacques by letting out 
again his long telescope arm to pat him on his shoulder 
when, with a mouth full of praises of his wife, a tear 
ioo 


The Sword-slipper of Solingen 

sparkled in his eye as he told over again how dearly he 
loved his little ones. 

Day broke before the wine was exhausted or their hearts 
flagged, and when the voice of the early cock woke the 
swan that tended her callow brood amongst the sedges of 
the Meuse the Old Man departed. Jacques never saw 
him again, although he often looked in all directions when 
he went to the hill for a supply of fuel; but from that 
day Liege grew up in industry, riches, and power. 
Jacques had found coal , and thus became the benefactor 
of his native country, and the hero of this favourite Legend 
of the Liigeois. 

The Sword-slipper of Solingen 

In Solingen, where the forges rang to the making of 
sword-blades, many smiths had essayed to imitate the 
falchions of Damascus, their trenchant keenness and their 
wondrous golden inlaying. But numerous as were the 
attempts made to recapture the ancient secret of the East, 
they all signally failed, and brought about the ruin of 
many masters of the sword-slipper’s art. 

Among these was old Ruthard, a smith grown grey in the 
practice of his trade. He had laid aside sufficient savings 
to permit himself a year’s experiment in the manufacture 
of Damascus blades, but to no purpose. As the months 
wore on he saw his hard-earned gold melting steadily 
away. The wrinkles deepened on his brow, and his only 
daughter, Martha, watched the change coming over him 
in sorrowful silence. 

One evening—the evening of all evenings, the holy 
Christmas eve—Martha entered the forge and saw the 
old man still hard at work. She gently remonstrated 
with him, asking him why he toiled on such an occasion. 

IOI 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

“ You work, my father, as if you feared that to-morrow 
we might not have bread,” she said. “Why toil on this 
holy evening ? Have you not sufficient for the future ? You 
must have laid by enough for your old age. Then why 
fatigue yourself when others are spending the time by 
their own hearths in cheerful converse ? ” 

The old smith’s only reply was to shake his head in a 
melancholy manner, take some pieces of broken food in 
his hands, and leave the house. At that moment Wilhelm, 
the smith’s head apprentice, entered the room. He seemed 
pale and disturbed, and related to Martha, to whom he 
was betrothed, that he had asked Ruthard for her hand. 
The old man had firmly told him that he could not 
consent to their union until he had discovered the secret of 
making Damascus blades. This he felt was hopeless to 
expect, and he had come to say “ good-bye ” ere he set 
out on a quest from which he might never return. At the 
news Martha was greatly perturbed. She rose and clung 
to the young man, her wild grief venting itself in heart¬ 
rending sobs. She begged him not to depart. But his 
mind was fully made up, and, notwithstanding her tears 
and caresses, he tore himself away and quitted the house 
and the town. 

For nearly a fortnight the youth tramped over hill and 
valley with little in his pouch and without much hope that 
the slender means of which he was possessed would bring 
him to the land of the Saracens, where alone he could 
hope to learn the great art of tempering the blades of 
Damascus. One evening he entered the solitary mountain 
country of Spessart and, unacquainted with the labyrinths 
of the road, lost himself in an adjoining forest. By this 
time night had fallen, and he cast about for a place in 
which to lay his head. But the inhospitable forest showed 
102 


The Sword-slipper of Solingen 

no sign of human habitation. After wandering on, how¬ 
ever, stumbling and falling in the darkness, he at length 
saw a light burning brightly at a distance. Quickly he 
made for it and found that it came from the window of a 
cottage, at the door of which he knocked loudly. He had 
not long to wait for an answer, for an old woman speedily 
opened and inquired what he wanted at so late an hour. 
He told her that he desired food and lodging, for which 
he could pay, and he was at once admitted. She told 
him, however, that she expected another visitor. Whilst 
she cooked his supper Wilhelm detailed to her the 
circumstances of his journey. After he had eaten he 
retired to rest, but, tired as he was, he could not sleep. 
Later a dreadful storm arose, through the din of which he 
heard a loud noise, as if someone had entered the house 
by way of the chimney. Peering through the keyhole 
into the next room, he perceived a man seated at the table 
opposite his hostess whose appearance filled him with 
misgiving. He had not much leisure for a detailed 
examination of this person, however, for the witch—for such 
she was—came to the door of his room, entered, and bade 
him come and be introduced to a stranger from the East 
who could tell him the secret of forging Damascus blades. 
Wilhelm followed the old woman into the other room and 
beheld there a swarthy man seated, wrapped in a flame- 
coloured mantle. For a long time the stranger regarded 
him steadily, then demanded what he wanted from him. 
Wilhelm told him the circumstances of his quest, and 
when he had finished the story the man laughed and, 
drawing from his pocket a document, requested the youth 
to sign it. Wilhelm perceived that it was of the nature 
of a pact with Satan, by which he was to surrender his 
soul in return for the coveted secret. Nevertheless, he 

103 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

set his signature to the manuscript and returned to his 
couch—but not to sleep. The consequences of his terrible 
act haunted him, and when morning came he set off on 
his homeward journey with a fearful heart, carefully 
guarding a well-sealed letter which the mysterious 
stranger had put into his hand. 

Without further adventure he reached Solingen, and 
having acquainted Ruthard with what had transpired, he 
handed him the letter. But the good old man refused to 
unseal it. 

“You must keep this until your own son and my grandson 
can open it,” he said to Wilhelm, “ for over his infant soul 
the enemy can have no power.” 

And so it happened. Wilhelm married Martha, and in the 
course of a few years a little son was born to them, who 
in due time found the letter, opened it, and mastered the 
Satanic secret, and from that time the blades of Solingen 
have had a world-wide renown. 

The Architect of Cologne Cathedral 
Travellers on the Rhine usually make a halt at Cologne 
to see the cathedral, and many inquire the name of its 
creator. Was the plan the work of a single architect? 
they ask; or did the cathedral, like many another in 
Europe, acquire its present form by slow degrees, being 
augmented and duly embellished in divers successive 
ages? These questions are perfectly reasonable and 
natural, yet, strange to relate, are invariably answered in 
evasive fashion, the truth being that the name of the 
artist in stone who planned Cologne Cathedral is unknown. 
The legend concerning him, however, is of world-wide 
celebrity, for the tale associated with the founding of the 
famous edifice is replete with that grisly element which 
104 


The Architect of Cologne Cathedral 

has always delighted the Germans, and figures largely 
in their medieval literature, and more especially in the 
works of their early painters—for example, Diirer, Lucas 
Cranach, and Albrecht Altdorfer. 

It was about the time of the last-named master that a 
Bishop of Cologne, Conrad von Hochsteden, formed the 
resolve of increasing the pecuniary value of his diocese. 
He was already rich, but other neighbouring bishops were 
richer, each of them being blest with just what Conrad 
lacked—a shrine sufficiently famous to attract large 
numbers of wealthy pilgrims able to make generous 
offerings. The result of his jealous musing was that 
the crafty bishop vowed he would build a cathedral 
whose like had not been seen in all Germany. By this 
means, he thought, he would surely contrive to bring 
rich men to his diocese. His first thought was to summon 
an architect from Italy, in those days the country where 
beautiful building was chiefly carried on; but he found 
that this would cost a far larger sum than he was capable 
of raising; so, hearing that a gifted young German 
architect had lately taken up his abode at Cologne itself, 
Conrad sent for him and offered him a rich reward should 
he accomplish the work satisfactorily. The young man 
was overjoyed, for as yet he had received no commissions 
of great importance, and he set to work at once. He made 
drawing after drawing, but, being in a state of feverish 
excitement, found that his hand had lost its cunning. 
None of his designs pleased him in the least; the bishop, 
he felt, would be equally disappointed; and thinking 
that a walk in the fresh air might clear his brain, he 
threw his drawing-board aside and repaired to the banks 
of the Rhine. Yet even here peace did not come to him; 
he was tormented by endless visions of groined arches, 

105 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

pediments, pilasters, and the like, and having a stick in 
his hand, he made an effort to trace some on the sand. 
But this new effort pleased him no better than any of its 
predecessors. Fame and fortune were within his reach, 
yet he was incapable of grasping them; a k nd he groaned 
aloud, cursing the day he was born. 

As the young man uttered his fierce malediction he was 
surprised to hear a loud “ Amen ” pronounced; he looked 
round, wondering from whom this insolence came, and 
beheld an individual whose approach he had not noticed. 
He, too, was engaged in drawing on the sand, and deem¬ 
ing that the person, whoever he was, intended to mock 
his attempts at a plan for the projected cathedral, the 
architect strode up to him with an angry expression on 
his face. He stopped short, however, on nearing the rival 
draughtsman; for he was repelled by his sinister aspect, 
while at the same time he was thunderstruck by the excel¬ 
lence of his drawing. It was indeed a thaumaturgic design, 
just such a one as the architect himself had dreamt of, 
but had been unable to execute; and while he gazed at it 
eagerly the stranger hailed him in an ugly, rasping voice. 
“A cunning device, this of mine,” he said sharply; and 
the architect was bound to agree, despite the jealousy he 
felt. Surely, he thought, only the Evil One could draw 
in this wise. Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind 
ere his suspicion was confirmed, for now he marked the 
stranger’s tail, artfully concealed hitherto. Yet he was 
incapable of withholding his gaze from the plan drawn so 
wondrously on the sand, and the foul fiend, seeing that the 
moment for his triumph was come, declared his identity 
without shame, and added that, would the architect but 
agree to renounce all hopes of salvation in the next world, 
the peerless design would be his to do with as he pleased. 
106 


The Architect of Cologne Cathedral 

The young man shuddered on receiving the momentous 
offer, but continued to gaze fixedly at the cunning work¬ 
manship, and again the Evil One addressed him, bidding 
him repair that very night to a certain place on a blasted 
heath, where, if he would sign a document consigning his 
soul to everlasting damnation, he would be presented with 
the plan duly drawn on parchment. The architect still 
wavered, now eager to accept the offer, and now vowing 
that the stipulated price was too frightful. In the end he 
was given time wherein to come to a decision, and he 
hurried from the place at hot speed as the tempter vanished 
from his sight. 

On reaching his dwelling the architect flung himself upon 
his bed and burst into a paroxysm of weeping. The good 
woman who tended him observed this with great surprise, 
for he was not given to showing his emotions thus; and 
wondering what terrible sorrow had come to him, she pro¬ 
ceeded to make kindly inquiries. At first these were met 
with silence, but, feeling a need for sympathy, the archi¬ 
tect eventually confessed the truth ; and the good dame, 
horrified at what she heard, hurried off to impart the story 
to her father-confessor. He, too, was shocked, but he was 
as anxious as Bishop Conrad that the proposed cathedral 
should be duly built, and he came quickly to the architect’s 
presence. “ Here,” he told him, “ is a piece of our Lord’s 
cross. This will preserve you. Go, therefore, as the fiend 
directed you, take the drawing from him, and brandish 
the sacred relic in his accursed face the moment you have 
received it.” 

When evening drew near the architect hurried to the ren¬ 
dezvous, where he found the Devil waiting impatiently. 
But a leer soon spread over his visage, and he was 
evidently overjoyed at the prospect of wrecking a soul. 

107 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

He quickly produced a weird document, commanding his 
victim to affix his signature at a certain place. “ But the 
beautiful plan,” whispered the young man; “ I must see 
it first; I must be assured that the drawing on the sand 
has been faithfully copied.” “ Fear nothing.” The Devil 
handed over the precious piece of vellum ; and glancing 
at it swiftly, and finding it in order, the architect whipped 
it under his doublet. “Aha! you cannot outwit me,” 
shrieked the fiend ; but as he was laying hands upon the 
architect the young man brought forth the talisman he 
carried. “ A priest has told you of this, for no one else 
would have thought of it,” cried the Devil, breathing 
flame from his nostrils. But his wrath availed him 
naught; he was forced to retreat before the sacred relic, 
yet as he stepped backward he uttered a deadly curse. 
“You have deceived me,” he hissed; “but know that 
fame will never come to you; your name will be forgotten 
for evermore.” 

And behold, the fiend’s prophecy was fulfilled. The 
cathedral was scarcely completed ere the young architect’s 
name became irrevocably forgotten, and now this grisly 
tale is all that is known concerning his identity. 

Cologne Cathedral: Its Erection 
There are several other tales to account for the belief 
prevalent at one time that Cologne Cathedral would never 
be completed. The following legend attributes the un¬ 
finished state of the edifice to the curse of a jealous architect. 
At the time the building was commenced a rival architect 
was engaged in planning an aqueduct to convey to the 
city a supply of water purer than that of the Rhine. He 
was in this difficulty, however: he had been unable to 
discover the exact position of the spring from which the 
108 


Cologne Cathedral: Its Erection 

water was to be drawn. Tidings of the proposed structure 
reached the ears of the builder of the cathedral, a man of 
strong passions and jealous disposition, and in time the 
other architect asked his opinion of the plans for the 
aqueduct. 

Now it so happened that the architect of the cathedral 
alone had known the situation of the spring, and he had 
communicated it to his wife, but to no other living crea¬ 
ture ; so he replied boastfully: 

“ Speak not to me of your aqueduct. My cathedral, 
mighty as it will be, shall be completed before your little 
aqueduct.” And he clinched his vainglorious assertion 
with an oath. 

Indeed, it seemed as though his boast would be justified, 
for the building of the sacred edifice proceeded apace, 
while the aqueduct was not even begun, because of the 
difficulty of finding the spring. The second architect was 
in despair, for of a certainty his professional reputation 
was destroyed, his hopes of fame for ever dashed, were 
he unable to finish the task he had undertaken. 

His faithful wife strove to lighten his despondency, and 
at last, setting her woman’s wit to work, hit on a plan 
whereby the threatened calamity might be averted. She 
set out to visit the wife of the rival architect, with whom 
she was intimate. The hostess greeted her effusively, and 
the ladies had a long chat over bygone times. More and 
more confidential did they become under the influence of 
old memories and cherry wine. Skilfully the guest led the 
conversation round to the subject of the hidden spring, 
and her friend, after exacting a promise of the strictest 
secrecy, told her its exact situation. It lay under the 
great tower of the cathedral, covered by the massive 
stone known as the 4 Devil’s Stone.’ 


109 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

“Let me have your assurance again,” said the anxious 
lady, “ that you will never tell anyone, not even your 
husband. For I do not know what would become of me 
if my husband learnt that I had told it to you.” 

The other renewed her promises of secrecy and took her 
leave. On her return home she promptly told her husband 
all that had passed, and he as promptly set to work, sunk 
a well at the spot indicated, and found the spring. The 
foundations of the aqueduct were laid and the structure 
itself soon sprang up. The architect of the cathedral saw 
with dismay that his secret was discovered. As the 
building of the aqueduct progressed he lost all interest in 
his own work; envy and anger filled his thoughts and at 
last overcame him. It is said that he died of a broken 
heart, cursing with his latest breath the cathedral which 
he had planned. 

The JVager 

An alternative story is that of the Devil’s wager with the 
architect of the cathedral. The Evil One was much 
irritated at the good progress made in the erection of the 
building and resolved, by means of a cunning artifice, 
to stop that progress. To this end he paid a visit 
to the architect, travelling incognito to avoid unpleasant 
attentions. 

The architect was a man of wit and good sense, as 
courteous as he was clever; but he had one outstanding 
failing—a love of wagering. Satan, who ever loves to 
find the joints in an opponent’s armour, chose this one 
weak spot as a point of attack. His host offered him 
meat and drink, which the Devil declined as not being 
sufficiently high-seasoned for his taste. 

“ I have come on a matter of business,” said he briskly, 
i io 


The Wager 

“ I have heard of you as a sporting fellow, a man who 
loves his wager. Is that correct? ” 

The architect indicated that it was, and was all eagerness 
and attention in a moment. 

“ Well,” said the other, “ I have come, in a word, to make 
a bet with you concerning the cathedral.” 

“And what is your wager?” 

“ Why, PH wager that I bring a stream from Treves to 
Cologne before you finish the cathedral, and Til work 
single-handed, too.” 

“ Done ! ” said the delighted architect. “ But what’s the 
wager? ” 

“ If I win, your soul passes into my possession; if you win, 
you may have anything you choose.” And with that he 
was gone. 

Next day the architect procured the services of all the 
builders that were to be had on such short notice, and set 
them to work in real earnest. Very soon the whole town 
was in a state of excitement because of the unusual 
bustle. The architect took to dreaming of the wealth, or 
the fame, or the honour he should ask as his due when the 
stakes were won. Employing his imagination thus, he 
one day climbed to the top of the highest tower, which by 
this time was completed, and as he feasted his eyes on the 
beautiful landscape spread before him he happened to turn 
toward the town of Treves, and lo! a shining stream was 
threading its way to Cologne. In a very short time it 
would reach the latter city. 

The Devil had won ! 

With a laugh of defiance the architect cast himself from 
the high tower and was instantly killed. Satan, in the 
form of a black hound, sprang upon him, but was too late 
to find him alive. 


hi 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

But his death stopped for many years the progress of the 
cathedral; it long stood at the same stage of completion 
as when the brook first flowed from Treves to Cologne. 

The Fire-bell of Cologne 

In one of the grand towers of Cologne Cathedral hangs a 
massive bell, some 25,000 lb. in weight. No mellow call 
to prayer issues from its brazen throat, no joyous chimes peal 
forth on gala-days; only in times of disaster, of storm and 
stress and fire, it flings out a warning in tones so loud and 
clamorous, so full of dire threatenings, that the stoutest 
hearts quail beneath the sound. Because its awful note is 
only to be heard in time of terror it is known as the Fire- 
bell, and a weird tradition relates the story of its founding 
and the reason for its unearthly sound. 

Long ago, when bell-founding was looked upon as an art 
of the highest importance, and especially so among the 
Germans, the civic authorities of Cologne made it known 
that the cathedral was in need of a new bell. There was 
no lack of aspirants for the honour of casting the bell, and 
more than one exponent of the art imagined his handiwork 
swinging in the grand tower of the cathedral, a lasting and 
melodious monument to its creators skill. 

Among those whose ambitious souls were stirred by the 
statement of the city fathers was one, a bell-founder named 
Wolf, a man of evil passions and overbearing disposition, 
whose heart was firmly set on achieving success. In those 
days, let it be said, the casting of a bell was a solemn, and 
even a religious, performance, attended by elaborate cere¬ 
monies and benedictions. On the day which Wolf had 
appointed for the operation it seemed as though the entire 
populace had turned out to witness the spectacle. Wolf, 
having prepared the mould, made ready to pour into it the 
112 


The Fire-bell of Cologne 

molten metal. The silence was almost oppressive, and on 
it fell distinctly the solemn words of the bell-founder, as in 
God’s name he released the metal. The bright stream 
gushed into the mould, and a cheer broke from the waiting 
crowd, who, indeed, could scarce be restrained till the bell 
had cooled, such was their curiosity to see the result. At 
last the earthy mould was removed, they surged round 
eagerly, and lo 1 from crown to rim of the mighty bell 
stretched a gaping crack! 

Expressions of disappointment burst from the lips of the 
people, and to Wolf himself the failure was indeed galling. 
But his ambitious spirit was not yet completely crushed. 

“ I am not beaten yet,” he said boastfully. “ I shall make 
another, and success shall yet be mine.” 

Another mould was made, once more the people came 
forth to see the casting of the bell, once more the solemn 
invocation of God’s name fell on awed ears. The glowing 
metal filled the mould, cooled, and was withdrawn from 
its earthy prison. Once more cries of disappointment 
were heard from the crowd; again the massive bell was 
completely riven! 

Wolf was beside himself. His eyes glowed with fury, and 
he thrust aside the consolations of his friends. 

“ If God will not aid me,” he said fiercely, “ then the 
Devil will!” 

The crowd shrank back from the impious words; never¬ 
theless on the third occasion they attended in even greater 
numbers than before. 

Again was all made ready for the casting of the huge bell. 
The mould was fashioned as carefully as on the previous 
occasions, the metal was heated in the great furnace, and 
Wolf, pale and sullen, stood ready to release it. But 
when he spoke a murmur of astonishment, of horror, ran 

h 113 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

through the crowd. For the familiar words “ In the 
name of God! ” he had substituted “ In the name of the 
Devil! ” With fascinated eyes the people watched the 
bright, rushing metal, and, later, the removal of the 
mould. 

And behold ! the bell was flawless, perfect in shape and 
form, and beautiful to look upon ! 

Wolf, having achieved the summit of his ambition, cared 
little for the means by which he had ascended. From 
among a host of competitors he was chosen as the most 
successful. His bell was to hang in the belfry of Cologne 
Cathedral, for the envy of other bell-founders and the 
admiration of future generations. 

The bell was borne in triumph through the streets and fixed 
high in the tower. Wolf requested that he might be the 
first to try its tone, and his request was granted. He 
ascended into the tower and took the rope in his hands; 
the mighty bell swung forth, but, ah ! what a sound was 
that! The people pressed their hands over their ears and 
shuddered; those in the streets hurried to their homes; all 
were filled with deadly fear as the diabolical bell flung its 
awful tones over the startled city. This, then, was the 
result of Wolfs invocation of the Devil. 

Wolf himself, high in the cathedral tower, was over¬ 
come with the brazen horror of the sound, and, driven 
mad with remorse and terror, flung himself from the 3 
tower and fell, a crushed and shapeless mass, on the ground 
below. 

Henceforth the bell was used only to convey warning 
in times of danger, to carry a message of terror far 
and wide across the city, and to remind the wicked 
at all times of the danger of trafficking with the Evil 
One. 

114 


The Archbishop’s Lion 

The Archbishop's Lion 

In 957 Cologne was constituted an imperial free city, 
having as its nominal prince the archbishop of the see, 
but possessing the right to govern its own affairs. The 
good bishop of that time acquiesced in the arrangement, 
but his successors were not content to be princes in name 
only, and strove hard to obtain a real influence over the 
citizens. Being for the most part men of unscrupulous 
disposition, they did not hesitate to rouse commonalty 
and aristocracy against each other, hoping to step in 
and reap the benefits of such internecine warfare as might 
ensue. And, indeed, the continual strife was not con¬ 
ducive to the prosperity of the burghers, but rather 
tended to sap their independence, and one by one their civil 
liberties were surrendered. Thus the scheming archbishops 
increased their power and influence in the city of Cologne. 
There came a time, however, in the civic history when the 
limit was overstepped. In the thirteenth century Arch¬ 
bishop Engelbert, more daring and ambitious than any of 
his predecessors, demanded that the municipal treasure 
should be given up to him. Not content with taking 
away the privileges of the burghers, he wished to lay his 
hands on the public purse as well. This was indeed the 
last straw, and the sluggish blood of the burghers was at 
length roused to revolt. 

At this time the Burgomaster of Cologne, Hermann Grein 
by name, was an honest, far-seeing, and diplomatic citizen, 
who had seen with dismay the ancient liberties of his 
beloved city destroyed by the cunning of the Archbishop. 
The latter’s bold attempt at further encroachments gave 
him the opportunity he sought, and with the skill of a 
born leader Hermann Grein united nobles and commons in 

IT 5 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

the determination to resist their mutual enemy. Feuds 
were for the time being forgotten, and with a gallant 
effort the galling yoke of the Archbishop-prince was 
thrown off, and the people of Cologne were once more 
free. 

Grein performed his civic duties so firmly, albeit so 
smoothly and gently, that he won the love and respect of 
all sections of the populace. Old and young hailed him 
in their hearts as the deliverer of their city from eccle¬ 
siastical tyranny. Only Engelbert hated him with a 
deadly hatred, and swore to be revenged; nor was his 
resolve weakened when a later attempt to subdue the city 
was frustrated by the foresight of Grein. It became 
obvious to the Archbishop that force was unavailing, for 
the majority of all classes were on the side of liberty, and 
were likely to remain so while Hermann Grein was at 
their head. So he made up his mind to accomplish by 
means of strategy the death of the good old man. 

Now there were in the monastery close by Cologne two 
canons who shared Engelbert’s hatred of Grein, and who 
were only too willing to share in his revenge. And the 
plan was indeed a cunning one. Belonging to a small 
collection of animals attached to the monastery was a 
fierce lion, which had more than once proved a convenient 
mode of removing the Church’s enemies. So it was 
arranged that the Burgomaster should be asked to meet 
the Archbishop there. The latter sent a suave message 
to his enemy saying that he desired to treat with him 
on matters connected with the civic [privileges, which he 
was disposed to restore to the city, with a few small 
exceptions. This being the case, would the Burgomaster 
consent to dine with him at the monastery on a certain 
date? 

116 



The Burgomaster and the Lion n6 

Hiram Ellis 



















The Archbishop’s Lion 

The Burgomaster consented heartily, for he was a man 
to whom treachery was entirely foreign, and therefore not 
prone to suspect that vice in others; nevertheless he took 
the simple precautions of arming himself and making his 
destination known to his friends before he set out. When 
he arrived at the monastery resplendent in the rich 
garments countenanced by the fashion of the time, he 
was told that the Archbishop was in the garden. 

“ Will you walk in our humble garden with his High¬ 
ness ? ” the canons asked the Burgomaster, and he, a lover 
of nature, bade them lead the way. 

The garden was truly a lovely spot, gay with all manner 
of flowers and fruit; but Grein looked in vain for his host. 
“His Highness,” said the wily canons, “is in the private 
garden, where only the heads of the Church and their most 
honoured guests are admitted. Ah, here we are 1 Enter, 
noble Burgomaster; we may go no farther.” 

With that they stopped before a strong iron-bound door, 
opened it, and thrust the old man inside. In a moment 
the heavy door had swung to with a crash, and Grein 
found himself in a narrow, paved court, with high, 
unscalable walls on every side. And from a dark corner 
there bounded forth to meet him a huge lion ! With a 
pious prayer for help the Burgomaster drew his sword, 
wrapped his rich Spanish mantle round his left arm, and 
prepared to defend himself against his adversary. With 
a roar the lion was upon him, but with wonderful agility 
the old man leapt to one side. Again the great beast 
sprang, endeavouring to get the man’s head between its 
jaws. Again and again Grein thrust valiantly, and in 
one of these efforts his weapon reached the lion’s heart 
and it rolled over, dead. Weak and exhausted from loss 
of blood, the Burgomaster lost consciousness. 

ii 7 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Ere long he was roused from his swoon by the awe-inspir¬ 
ing tones of the alarm-bell and the sound of a multitude 
of voices. A moment later he recalled his terrible 
struggle with the lion, and uttered a devout thanksgiving 
for his escape from death. 

Meanwhile the people, growing anxious at his prolonged 
absence, and fearing that some ill had befallen him, had 
hastened to the monastery. The two canons, seeing the 
approaching crowd, ran out to meet them, wringing their 
hands and exclaiming that the Burgomaster had strayed 
into the lion’s den and there met his death. The angry 
crowd, in nowise deceived by their pretences, demanded 
to be shown the lion’s den. Arrived there, they broke 
down the door and, to their great joy, found Grein alive, 
though wounded and much shaken. They bore him trium¬ 
phantly through the town, first crowning his hastily im¬ 
provised litter with flowers and laurels. 

As for the monks, their priestly garb could not protect 
their persons from the wrath of the mob, and they were 
hanged at the gate of the monastery, which thereafter 
became known as the 4 Priests’ Gate.’ 

The IVhite Horses 

The year 1440 was a memorable one throughout Germany, 
for the great plague raged with fearful violence, leaving 
blanks in many families hitherto unvisited by death. 
Among the victims was Richmodis, the beloved wife of 
Sir Aducht of Cologne, who deeply mourned her loss. 

The lady was buried with a valuable ring—her husband’s 
gift—upon her finger; this excited the cupidity of the 
sextons, who, resolved to obtain possession of it, opened 
the tomb in the night and wrenched off the coffin-lid. 
Their difficulties, however, were not at an end, for when 
118 


The White Horses 

they tried to possess themselves of the ring it resolutely 
adhered to the finger of the corpse. 

Suddenly, to their horror, the dead body gently raised 
itself, with a deep sigh, as though the soul of Richmodis 
regarded this symbol of wifely duty as sacred, and would 
resist the efforts of the thieves to take it from her. 

The dark and hollow eyes opened and met those of the 
desecrators, and a threatening light seemed to come from 
them. At this ghastly sight the terrified sextons fled in 
abject panic. 

Richmodis recovered by degrees, and gradually realizing 
where she was, she concluded that she must have been 
buried while alive. In her terror she cried aloud for help. 
But nobody could hear her; it was the lone hour of mid¬ 
night, when all nature reposes. 

Summoning strength, she resolved to make an effort to go 
to the husband who had placed the ring upon her finger, 
and getting out of the coffin, she made her way shivering 
toward their home. 

The wind moaned dismally through the trees, and their 
foliage cast dark, spectral shadows that swayed fitfully to 
and fro in the weird light of the waning moon as Rich¬ 
modis staggered along feebly, absorbed in the melancholy 
thoughts which her terrible experience suggested. 

Not a sound, save the soughing of the wind, was heard 
within God’s peaceful acre, for over the wrecks of Time 
Silence lay motionless in the arms of Death. 

The moon’s pale rays illumined the buildings when Rich¬ 
modis arrived at her house in the New Market. She 
knocked repeatedly, but at first received no response to 
her summons". After a time Sir Aducht opened the win¬ 
dow and looked out, annoyed at the disturbance at such 
an hour. 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

He was about to speak angrily when the apparition looked 
up at him with a tender regard of love and asked him to 
descend quickly and open the door to receive his wife, 
nearly exhausted by cold and terror. The bereaved hus¬ 
band refused to believe that the wife whom he had just 
buried had come back to him, and he declared that he 
would as soon expect his horses to climb upstairs as 
believe that his dead wife could return to him alive. 

He had hardly uttered the words when the trampling of 
his two horses on the staircase was distinctly heard. A 
moment or two later he looked from the casement and 
saw the steeds at an upper window, and he could doubt 
no longer. Rushing to the door, he received his shivering 
wife into his arms. The ring she still wore would have 
removed all doubts had there been room for such. 
Husband and wife spent many years together in domestic 
happiness, and in memory of that remarkable night Sir 
Aducht fixed wooden effigies of two horses’ heads to the 
outside of the window, where they still remain for all 
to see. 

The Magic Banquet 

Another interesting tale of Cologne deals with the famous 
magician and alchemist, Albertus Magnus, who at one 
time dwelt in the convent of the Dominicans, not far from 
that city. It is recorded that on one occasion, in the 
depth of winter, Albertus invited William of Holland to 
a feast which was to be held in the convent garden. The 
recipients of the curious invitation, William and his 
courtiers, were naturally much amazed at the terms 
thereof, but decided not to lose the opportunity of 
attending such a novel banquet. 

In due course they arrived at the monastery, where all 
120 


The Magic Banquet 

was in readiness for the feast, the tables being laid amid 
the snow. The guests had fortified themselves against 
the severe weather by wearing their warmest clothing and 
furs. No sooner had they taken their seats, however, 
than Albertus, exercising the magic powers he possessed, 
turned the wintry garden into a scene of summer bloom 
and loveliness. The heavy furs were laid aside, and the 
guests were glad to seek the shade of the spreading 
foliage. Iced drinks were brought to allay their thirst, 
and a sumptuous banquet was provided by their hosts; 
thus the hours passed unheeded, till the Ave Maria was 
rung by the convent-bell. Immediately the spell was 
broken, and once more snow and ice dominated the scene. 
The courtiers, who had rid themselves of as much of their 
clothing as court etiquette would permit, shivered in the 
bitter blast, and looked the very picture of blank amaze¬ 
ment—so much so, indeed, that William forgot his own 
suffering and laughed heartily at the discomfiture of his train. 
This story has a quaint sequel. To show his approval of 
the magic feat William granted to the convent a piece 
of land of considerable extent in the neighbourhood of 
Cologne, and sent some of his courtiers to present the 
deed of gift. The hospitable prior, anxious that the 
members of the deputation should be suitably entertained, 
drew from the well-furnished cellars of the monastery 
some choice Rhenish, which so pleased the palates of the 
courtiers that they drank and drank and did not seem to 
know when to stop. At length the prior, beholding with 
dismay the disappearance of his finest vintage, privately 
begged the magician to put a stop to this drain on the 
resources of his cellar. Albertus consented, and once 
more the wine-cups were replenished. Imagine the 
horror of the courtiers when each beheld ghastly flames 

I 2 I 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

issuing from his cup! In their dismay they seized hold 
of one another and would not let go. 

Only when the phenomenon had disappeared did they 
discover that each held his neighbour by the nose! and 
such was their chagrin at being seen in this unconventional 
pose that they quitted the monastery without a word, and 
never entered it again. 

Truenfels 

At a place called Truenfels, near the Oelberg, and not very 
far from Cologne, there lived at one time in the Middle 
Ages a knight named Sir Balther. His schloss was known 
as The Mount, and there dwelt with him here his only 
daughter, Liba, whose great beauty had won for her a vast 
entourage of suitors. Each was equally importunate, but 
only one was in any way favoured, Sir Sibert Ulenthal, 
and at the time the story opens this Sir Sibert had lately 
become affianced to Sir Balther’s daughter. 

Now Sir Balther felt an ardent aversion to one of his 
neighbours, the Bishop of Cologne, and his hatred of this 
prelate was shared abundantly by various other knights 
and nobles of the district. One evening it chanced a 
body of these were gathered together at The Mount; 
and after Rhenish had circulated freely among them and 
loosened their tongues, one and all began to vent wrath 
on the ill-starred Churchman, talking volubly of his avarice 
and misdeeds in general. But why, cried one of them, 
should they be content with so tame a thing as scurrilous 
speech ? Were not men of the sword more doughty than 
men of the robe ? he added; and thereupon a wild shout 
was raised by the revellers, and they swore that they 
would sally forth instantly and slay him whom they all 
loathed so passionately. 

122 


Truenfels 

It happened that, even as they set out, the bishop was 
returning from a visit to a remote part of his diocese; 
and being wholly unprepared to cope with a gang of 
desperadoes like these, he fell an easy prey to their attack. 
But the Church in medieval days did not take acts of 
this sort passively, and the matter being investigated, and 
it transpiring that The Mount had been the rallying- 
ground of the murderers, a band of troops was sent to 
raze Sir Balther’s castle and slay its inmates. The news, 
meanwhile, reached the fair Liba’s JiancS , Sir Sibert, 
and knowing well that, in the event of The Mount being 
stormed by the avenging party, death or an equally terrible 
fate might befall his betrothed, the lover felt sad indeed. 
He hastened to the King and implored his intervention; 
on this being refused, he proposed that he himself should 
join the besiegers, at the same time carrying with him a 
royal pardon for Liba, for what concern had she with her 
father’s crimes ? His Majesty was persuaded to give the 
requisite document to Sir Sibert, who then hied him at 
full speed to The Mount, there to find the siege going 
forward. The walls of the castle were strong, and as yet 
the inmates were showing a good fight; but as day after 
day went past their strength and resources began to wane, 
and anon it seemed as though they could not possibly hold 
out longer. Accordingly the soldiers redoubled their 
efforts to effect a breach, which being compassed ulti¬ 
mately, they rushed upon the little garrison; and now 
picture the consternation of Liba when she found that her 
own lover was among the assailants of her home! Amid 
the din of battle he called to her loudly, once and again, 
telling her that he carried a royal pardon for her, and that 
all she had to do was to forsake her father and follow her 
betrothed instead. But in the din of battle she did not 

123 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

hear, or mistook the tenor of his words; and ere he could 
make himself understood the garrison of the castle began 
to yield, and a moment later the building was in flames. 
Many of the besieged were burnt to death, but Liba and 
her father hastened to a little chamber at the base of the 
schloss, and hence they won to a subterranean passage 
which was known only to themselves, and which led to a 
distant place in the surrounding wilds. 

Gazing at the blackened ruins, Sir Sibert felt as though 
henceforth the world held for him no joy whatsoever. He 
refused to be comforted, so convinced was he that Liba 
had perished in the terrible fray; but one stormy evening, 
wandering in the neighbourhood of the castle, he perceived 
two figures who seemed to him familiar. True, both were 
haggard and tattered, but as he drew near to them the 
knight’s pulses quickened of a sudden, for he knew that 
his beloved stood before him. Would she listen to him 
now ? he wondered; or would she still imagine him 
perfidious, and scorn the aid which he offered? While 
he was debating with himself the storm increased, and 
the great peals of thunder sounding overhead made the 
lover’s heart beat faster. He drew the all-important 
document from within his doublet and approached the 
pair. “ Heart of my heart ”... the words faltered to 
Sir Sibert’s lips, but he got no further; a great flash 
of lightning descended from on high, and lo! Sir Balther 
and Liba lay stricken in death. 

The broken-hearted lover built a chapel on the spot where 
his betrothed had fallen, and here he dwelt to the end of 
his days. It would seem, nevertheless, that those pious 
exercises wherewith hermits chiefly occupy themselves 
were not his only occupation ; for long after the chapel 
itself had become a ruin its site was marked by a great 
124 


Rolandseck & Nonnenwerth 

stone which bore an inscription in rude characters—the 
single word “ Liba.” Doubtless Sir Sibert had hewn this 
epitaph with his own hands. 

Rolandseck and Nonnenwerth 

The castle of Rolandseck stands opposite Drachenfels. 
Below them, on an island in the Rhine, is the convent of 
Nonnenwerth. 

Roland, Charlemagne’s nephew, whose fame had spread 
throughout the world, while riding one day on the banks 
of the Rhine, sought the hospitality of the Lord of 
Drachenfels. 

Honoured at receiving such a distinguished guest, the 
lord of the castle hastened to welcome him. 

The ladies gave the brave knight as cordial a reception 
as their lord, whose charming daughter seemed deeply 
impressed by the visitor’s knightly deportment. Roland’s 
admiring glances lingered lovingly on the fair maid, who 
blushed in sweet confusion, and whose tender looks alone 
betrayed the presence of Cupid, who but waited for an 
opportunity to manifest his power. 

At his host’s bidding Roland put off his armour, but even 
in his own room a vision of maidenly beauty haunted him, 
thereby showing how subtly the young girl’s charms had 
wound themselves around the knight’s heart. 

Roland remained for some time with the Lord of Drachen¬ 
fels, fascinated more and more by the grace and beauty 
of his winsome daughter. Besides being beautiful, she 
was a clever needlewoman, and he admired the dexterity 
with which she embroidered ornamental designs on 
damask. 

Only when asked by her to relate some deeds of daring, 
or describe the wondrous countries through which he had 

125 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

travelled, would Roland become eloquent. Then he grew 
enthusiastic, his cheeks glowed, his eyes sparkled, and 
the enamoured maid would regard her hero with admira¬ 
tion. She evinced a lively interest in his exploits, their 
eyes would meet, then with a throbbing breast [she would 
resume her work by his side. From this blissful dream 
Roland was summoned to the wars again. 

The brave soldier prepared to depart, but he realized 
the joys he must renounce. Once more he visited the 
favourite haunts where they had spent such happy 
moments. The sound of someone weeping aroused him 
from his reverie, and he beheld his lady-love seated in 
an arbour, sobbing bitterly. Each knew the grief which 
separation must bring. Roland consoled the maiden by 
promising to return soon, nevermore to part. Only her 
tears betrayed how deeply the arrow of the winged god 
had sunk into her heart. 

A few days later they were betrothed, after which Roland 
departed in quest of glory. Many victories were gained 
by him, and soon the enemy was vanquished. Rejoicings 
were held to celebrate the event. 

But at Drachenfels Castle sad faces and tearful eyes told 
a tale of sorrow, for it had been announced that Roland 
was dead. The maid’s rosy cheeks grew pale with grief; 
nothing could console her; for was not her hero departed 
from her for ever? 

In the intensity of her anguish she sought relief in prayer 
and found a refuge in religion. She entered the convent 
at Nonnenwerth, resolved to dedicate her life to Heaven, 
since the joys of earth had fled. 

Her afflicted parents reluctantly acquiesced in this pro¬ 
posal. Daily they beheld their daughter waving her hand 
to them as she entered the chapel. 

126 


Rolandseck & Nonnenwerth 

Suddenly there appeared before the gates of Drachenfels a 
troop of cavaliers, whose armour shone brilliantly in the 
sun. Roland had returned home from the wars, crowned 
with glory, to claim his bride. But when he heard that 
she had taken the veil his buoyant spirits sank. The 
Lord of Drachenfels told him that they had believed the 
report of his death to be true. 

A cry of despair broke from the hero of a hundred fights. 
He crossed the Rhine to the castle of Rolandseck, where 
he remained for many weeks, abandoned to grief. 
Frequently he looked toward the convent which held his 
beloved. One evening he heard the bells tolling and saw 
a funeral procession of nuns carrying a coffin to the 
chapel. His page told him that his love was dead, but 
Roland had already divined that she who had mourned his 
supposed death had died through grief for him who was 
still alive to mourn her death. 

Time rolled on and Roland went again to the wars and 
achieved greater conquests, but at length he fell fighting 
against the Moors at Roncevaux, dying on the battlefield 
as he had wished. His valorous deeds and his glorious 
death were sung by minstrels throughout all Christendom, 
and his fame will never die. 


LEGENDS OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE 
Aix-la-Chapelle was the ancient seat of the Empire of 
Charlemagne, and many legends cluster around it, several 
of which have already been noticed in connexion with its 
great founder. The following legends, however, deal with 
the town itself, and not with any circumstance connected 
with the mighty Karl. 


127 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 


The Hunchbacked Musician 

In Aix-la-Chapelle dwelt two hunchbacked musicians. 
Friedel was a lively fellow with a pleasant face and an 
engaging manner. Heinz had red hair, green eyes, and 
a malevolent expression. Friedel was a better player than 
Heinz; that, combined with his agreeable looks, made 
him a general favourite. 

Friedel loved Agathe, the daughter of a rich wine-mer¬ 
chant. The lovers’ prospects were not encouraging, for 
Agathe’s father sought a son-in-law from higher circles. 
The poor musician’s plight was rendered desperate by the 
wine-merchant compelling his daughter to accept a rich 
but dissipated young man. When the hunchback ap¬ 
proached the merchant to declare his feelings toward the 
maiden, he was met with derision and insult. Full of 
bitterness, he wandered about, till midnight found him in 
the fish-market, where the Witches’ Sabbath was about to 
take place. A weird light was cast over everything, and 
a crowd of female figures quickly gathered. A lady who 
seemed to be at the head of the party offered the hunch¬ 
back refreshment, and others handed him a violin, desiring 
him to play for them. Friedel played, and the witches 
danced; faster and faster, for the violin was bewitched. 
At last the violinist fell exhausted, and the dancing ceased. 
The lady now commanded him to kneel and receive the 
thanks of the company for his beautiful playing. Then 
she muttered strange words over the kneeling hunch¬ 
back. 

When Friedel arose his hump was gone. 

Just then the clock struck one, everything vanished, and 
the musician found himself alone in the market-place. 
Next morning his looking-glass showed him that he had 
128 


AIX-LA-CHAPELLE 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page 128 




.'Uj.ri/ji j/j xia 

j;d'A iV 





















Legend of the Cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle 

not been dreaming, and in his pocket he found a large 
sum of money, which made him the equal of the richest 
in the town. Overjoyed at the transformation, he lost no 
time in seeking Agathe’s house. The sight of his gold 
turned the scale in his favour, and the wine-merchant 
consented to his suit. 

Now Heinz was inflamed with jealousy, and tried to calum¬ 
niate his companion by spreading evil stories. Friedel’s 
strange adventure leaked abroad, and Heinz determined 
to try his fortune likewise. So at the next witch-meeting 
he hastened to the fish-market, where at the outset every¬ 
thing happened in exactly the same manner. Heinz was 
requested to play, but his avaricious gaze was fixed on 
the golden vessels on the table, and his thoughts were 
with the large reward he would ask. Consequently his 
playing became so discordant that the indignant dancers 
made him cease. 

Kneeling down to receive his reward, he demanded the 
valuable drinking-cups, whereupon with scornful and 
mocking words the lady who was the leader of the band 
fixed on his breast the hump she had taken from Friedel. 
Immediately the clock struck one, and all disappeared. 
The poor man’s rage was boundless, for he found himself 
now saddled with two humps. He became an object of 
ridicule to the townsfolk, but Friedel pitied him, and 
maintained him ever after. 

The Legend of the Cathedral of Aix4a-Chapelle 
In former times the zealous and devout inhabitants of 
Aix-la-Chapelle determined to build a cathedral. For six 
months the clang of the hammer and axe resounded with 
wonderful activity, but, alas! the money which had been 
supplied by pious Christians for this holy work became 

i 129 


Hero Tales &“ Legends of the Rhine 

exhausted, the wages of the masons were perforce sus¬ 
pended, and with them their desire to hew and hammer, 
for, after all, men must have money wherewith to feed 
their families. 

Thus the cathedral stood, half finished, resembling a 
falling ruin. Moss, grass, and wild parsley flourished in 
the cracks of the walls, screech-owls already discovered 
convenient places for their nests, and amorous sparrows 
hopped lovingly about where holy priests should have 
been teaching lessons of chastity. 

The builders were confounded. They endeavoured to bor¬ 
row here and there, but no rich man could be induced to 
advance the large sum required. The collections from 
house to house produced little, so that instead of the 
much-wished-for golden coins nothing was found in the 
boxes but copper. When the magistracy received this 
report they were out of humour, and looked with despond¬ 
ing countenances toward the cathedral walls, as fathers 
look upon the remains of favourite children. 

At this moment a stranger of commanding figure and 
something of pride in his voice and bearing entered the 
council chamber and exclaimed: “ Bon Dieu ! it is said that 
you are out of spirits. Hem! if nothing but money is 
wanting, you may console yourselves, gentlemen. I pos¬ 
sess mines of gold and silver, and both can and will most 
willingly supply you with a ton of them.” 

The astounded magistrates sat like a row of pillars, 
measuring the stranger from head to foot. The Burgo¬ 
master first found his tongue. “Who are you, noble 
lord,” said he, “ that thus, entirely unknown, speak of 
tons of gold as though they were sacks of beans ? Tell 
us your name, your rank in this world, and whether you 
are sent from the regions above to assist us.” 

130 


Legend of the Cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle 

“ I have not the honour to reside there,” replied the 
stranger, “ and, between ourselves, I beg most particularly 
to be no longer troubled with questions concerning who 
and what I am. Suffice it to say I have gold plentiful as 
summer hay!” Then, drawing forth a leathern pouch, 
he proceeded: “This little purse contains the tenth of 
what PH give. The rest shall soon be forthcoming. Now 
listen, my masters,” continued he, clinking the coin; “all 
this trumpery is and shall remain yours if you promise to 
give me the first little soul that enters the door of the 
new temple when it is consecrated.” 

The astonished magistrates sprang from their seats as if 
they had been shot up by an earthquake and rushed 
pell-mell into the farthest corner of the room, where they 
rolled and clung to each other like lambs frightened at 
flashes of lightning. Only one of the party had not entirely 
lost his wits, and he collected his remaining senses and, 
drawing his head out of the heap, uttered boldly: “ Avaunt, 
thou wicked spirit! ” 

But the stranger, who was no less a person than Master 
Urian, laughed at them. “ What’s all this outcry about?” 
said he at length. “ Is my offence so heinous that you are 
all become like children ? It is I that may suffer from 
this business, not you. With my hundreds and thousands 
I have not far to run to buy a score of souls. Of you I 
ask but one in exchange for all my money. What are you 
picking at straws for ? One may plainly see you are a 
mere set of humbugs ! For the good of the common¬ 
wealth (which high-sounding name is often borrowed for 
all sorts of purposes) many a prince would instantly con¬ 
duct a whole army to be butchered, and you refuse one 
single man for that purpose! Fie! I am ashamed, O 
overwise counsellors, to hear you reason thus absurdly 

l 3 l 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

and citizen-like. What, do you think to deprive your- 
selves of the kernel of your people by granting my 
wish ? Oh, no ; there your wisdom is quite at fault, for, 
depend on it, hypocrites are always the earliest church 
birds.’ ’ 

By degrees, as the cunning fiend thus spoke, the magi¬ 
strates took courage and whispered in each other’s ears: 
“What is the use of our resisting? The grim lion will 
only show his teeth once. If we don’t assent, we shall 
infallibly be packed off ourselves. It is better, therefore, 
to quiet him directly.” 

Scarcely had they given effect to this new disposition 
and concluded the bargain when a swarm of purses flew 
into the room through doors and windows. Urian now 
took leave, but he stopped at the door and called out with 
a grim leer: “Count it over again for fear I may have 
cheated you.” 

The hellish gold was piously expended in finishing the 
cathedral, but nevertheless, when the building was com¬ 
pleted, splendid though it was, the whole town was filled 
with fear and alarm at the sight of it. The fact was that, 
although the magistrates had promised by bond and oath 
not to trust the secret to anybody, one had prated to his 
wife, and she had made it a market-place tale, so that one 
and all declared they would never set foot within the walls. 
The terrified council now consulted the clergy, but the 
good priests hung their heads. At last a monk cried out: 
“A thought strikes me. The wolf which has so long 
ravaged the neighbourhood of our town was this morning 
caught alive. This will be a well-merited punishment for 
the destroyer of our flocks; let him be cast to the devil in 
the fiery gulf. ’Tis possible the arch hell-hound may not 
relish this breakfast, yet, nolens volens , he must swallow it. 
132 


A Legend of Bonn 

You promised him certainly a soul, but whose was not 
decidedly specified.” 

The monk’s plan was plausible, and the magistrates deter¬ 
mined to put the cunning trick into execution. The day 
of consecration arrived. Orders were given to bring the 
wolf to the principal entrance of the cathedral, and just as 
the bells began to ring, the trap-door of the cage was 
opened and the savage beast darted out into the nave of 
the empty church. Master Urian from his lurking-place 
beheld this consecration-offering with the utmost fury; 
burning with choler at being thus deceived, he raged like a 
tempest, and finally rushed forth, slamming the brass gate 
so violently after him that the ring cracked in twain. 

This fissure commemorates the priest’s victory over the 
devices of the Devil, and is still exhibited to travellers 
who visit the cathedral. 

A Legend of Bonn 

The city of Bonn is one of the most beautiful of all those 
situated on the banks of the Rhine, and being the birth¬ 
place of no less celebrated a composer than Beethoven, it 
naturally attracts a goodly number of pilgrims every year, 
these coming from many distant lands to do homage at 
the shrine of genius. But Bonn and its neighbourhood 
have older associations than this—associations which 
carry the mind of the traveller far into the Middle Ages— 
for hard by the town is Rolandseck ; while a feature of 
the district is the Siebengebirge (Seven Mountains), a 
fine serried range of peaks which present a very imposing 
appearance when viewed from any of the heights over¬ 
looking Bonn itself, and which recall a justly famous 
legend. 

This story tells that in the thirteenth century there lived 

133 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

at a castle in the heart of these mountains a nobleman 
called Wolfram Herzog von Bergendorf; and being no 
freebooter like most of the other German barons of the 
time, but a man of very pious disposition, he was moved 
during the prime of his life to forsake his home and join 
a body of crusaders. Reaching Palestine after a pro¬ 
tracted journey, these remained there for a long time, 
Wolfram fighting gallantly in every fray and making his 
name a terror to the Saracens. But the brave crusader 
was wounded eventually, and now he set out for Germany, 
thirsting all the way for a sight of his beloved Sieben- 
gebirge , and dreaming of the wind-swept schloss which 
was his home. As he drew nearer to it he pictured the 
welcome which his fond Herzogin would give him, but 
scarcely had the drawbridge been lowered to admit him 
to his castle ere a fell piece of news was imparted to 
him. In short, it transpired that his wife Elise had been 
unfaithful to him during his absence and, on hearing 
that he was returning, had fled precipitately with her 
infant son. It was rumoured that she had found refuge 
in a convent, but Wolfram was quite unable to ascertain 
his wife’s whereabouts, the doors of all nunneries being 
impassable to men; while even the joy of revenge was 
denied him, for, try as he might, he could not find out the 
name of the person who had wronged him. So the 
Herzog was broken-hearted, and he vowed that hence¬ 
forth he would live a solitary life within his castle, 
spending his time in prayer and seeing only his own 
retainers. 

For many years this vow was piously observed, and 
Wolfram never stirred abroad. In course of time, however, 
he began to chafe at the restraint, feeling it the more 
acutely because he was an old soldier and had known the 
134 


THE KREUZBERG, BONN 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page 134. 










































































































































































































































A Legend of Bonn 

excitement of warfare; and so it came about that he 
revoked his decision and began to travel about the 
country as of old. It seemed also, to some of his hench¬ 
men, that he was gradually becoming more like his former 
self, and they sometimes said among themselves that he 
would marry again and had quite forgotten his wrongs. 
But the very reverse was the truth, and if Wolfram was 
growing more cheerful, it was because new hopes of 
retribution were springing up in his heart. The chance 
would come, he often told himself; surely the fates would 
one day confront him with his wife’s lover ! And one 
day, as he rode through the village of Gudesburg, these 
revengeful thoughts were uppermost in his mind. They 
engrossed him wholly, and he took little heed of the 
passers-by; but an unexpected stumble on the part of his 
horse caused him to look up, and of a sudden his eyes 
blazed like live coals. Here, walking only a few yards 
away from him, was a youth who bore an unmistakable 
resemblance to the unfaithful Elise; and dismounting 
instantly, the Herzog strode up to the stranger, hailed 
him loudly, and proceeded to question him concerning his 
identity. The youth was surprised at the anger expressed 
on the elder man’s countenance; and being overawed, he 
answered all questions without hesitation, unfolding the 
little he knew about his parentage. Nor had Wolfram’s 
instincts deceived him ; the tale he heard confirmed his 
suspicions, and drawing his sword, he slew the youth in 
cold blood, denying him even a moment in which to repeat 
a paternoster. 

A rude iron cross, still standing by the road at Gudes¬ 
burg, is said to mark the place where the ill-starred and 
unoffending young man met his doom. Possibly this cross 
was erected by Wolfram himself because he experienced 

*35 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

remorse, and felt that he had been unduly hasty in taking 
life; but be that as it may, the story concludes by asserting 
that the Herzog once more vowed that he would spend 
the rest of his days in solitude and prayer, and that 
henceforth to the end his vow remained unbroken. 

The Treasure-seeker 

This is a picturesque tale of the consequences of wealth 
attained by the aid of the supernatural which hangs about 
the ancient village of Endenich, near Bonn, where at 
the end of the seventeenth century there dwelt a certain 
sheriff and his son, Konrad, who was a locksmith by 
trade. They were poor and had lost everything in the 
recent wars, which had also ruined Heribert, another 
sheriff, who with his daughter, the beautiful Gretchen, 
eked out a frugal but peaceful existence in the same 
neighbourhood. The two young people fell in love with 
each other, but Gretchen’s father, becoming suddenly and 
mysteriously very rich and arrogant withal, desired a 
wealthy or highly placed official as his son-in-law and not 
a poor lad with no expectations such as Konrad, the lock¬ 
smith. The lovers were therefore compelled to meet in 
secret, and it was on one of these occasions that Heribert, 
surprising them together, attacked Konrad and felled him 
to the ground in his rage that he should dare to approach 
his daughter. 

Spurred by his love and knowing that he could never 
hope to win Gretchen without wealth, the unhappy youth 
decided to barter for gold the only possession left to him 
—his soul. 

Now there lived in the churchyard a Lapp wizard who 
made such bargains; so in the dead of night Konrad 
took his way to this dreadful and unfrequented spot and 
136 


The Treasure-seeker 

exhorted the sorcerer to come forth. At the third cry a 
terrible apparition appeared and demanded to know his 
wishes, to which the terrified Konrad could only reply: 
“ Gold.” Thereupon the sorcerer led the way deep into 
a forest and, pointing mysteriously to a certain spot, 
disappeared. At this spot Konrad found a chest full of 
gold and silver coins, and returning to Bonn, he bought a 
house the splendour of which surpassed that of Heribert, 
who could no longer refuse his daughter to so wealthy a 
suitor. 

The young wife tried all her arts to solve the mystery of 
her husband’s wealth, and he was at length about to reveal 
it to her when he was suddenly arrested and thrown into 
prison. Here he was put to torture by the authorities, 
who suspected him of robbery, and at length he confessed 
that he had found a treasure, while to his wife he confided 
the gruesome details, all of which were overheard by his 
jailers. 

He was released, but almost immediately re-arrested on 
the suspicion that he had killed a Jew named Abraham, 
who had amassed great sums during the wars as a spy. 
Tortured again, in his extremity he confessed to the 
murder and named Heribert as his accomplice, where¬ 
upon both men were sentenced to be hanged. Just as this 
doom was about to be carried out a Jew who had arrived 
from a far country hurriedly forced his way through the 
crowd. It was Abraham, who had returned in time 
to save the innocent. 

But his sin did not pass unpunished, for Konrad died 
childless; he bequeathed his wealth to the Church and 
charities, in expiation of his sin of having attained wealth 
by the aid of an evil spirit. 


137 


Hero Tales &“ Legends of the Rhine 


The Miller's Maid of Udorf 

Udorf is a little village on the left bank of the Rhine, not 
far from the town of Bonn, and at no great distance from 
it stands a lonely mill, to which attaches the following 
story of a woman’s courage and resourcefulness. 

Hannchen was the miller’s servant-maid, a buxom young 
woman who had been in his service for a number of years, 
and of whose faithfulness both he and his wife were 
assured. 

One Sunday morning the miller and his wife had gone 
with their elder children to attend mass at the neighbour¬ 
ing village of Hersel, leaving Hannchen at the mill in 
charge of the youngest child, a boy of about five years of 
age. 

On the departure of the family for church Hannchen 
busied herself in preparing dinner, but had scarcely com¬ 
menced her task ere a visitor entered the kitchen. This 
was no other than her sweetheart, Heinrich, whom she 
had not seen for some time. Indeed, he had earned so 
bad a reputation as a loafer and an idle good-for-nothing 
that the miller, as much on Hannchen’s account as on his 
own, had forbidden him the house. Hannchen, however, 
received her lover with undisguised pleasure, straightway 
set food before him, and sat down beside him for a chat, 
judging that the miller’s dinner was of small consequence 
compared with her ill-used Heinrich! The latter ate 
heartily, and toward the end of the meal dropped his 
knife, as though by accident. 

“ Pick that up, my girl,” said he. 

Hannchen protested good-humouredly, but obeyed none 
the less. As she stooped to the floor Heinrich seized her 
by the neck and held another knife to her throat. 

138 


The Miller’s Maid of Udorf 

“ Now, girl, show me where your master keeps his money,” 
he growled hoarsely. “ If you value your life, make haste.” 
“Let me go and I’ll tell you,” gasped Hannchen; and 
when he had loosened his grip on her throat she looked at 
him calmly. 

“Don’t make such a fuss about it, Heinrich,” she said 
pleasantly. “If you take my master’s money, you must 
take me too, for this will be no place for me. Will you 
take me with you, Heinrich ? ” 

The hulking fellow was taken completely off his guard by 
her apparent acquiescence, and touched by her desire to 
accompany him, which he attributed, with the conceit of 
his kind, to his own personal attractions. 

“ If I find the money, you shall come with me, Hannchen,” 

he conceded graciously. “ But if you play me false-” 

The sentence ended with an expressive motion of his knife. 
“Very well, then,” said the maid. “The money is in 
master’s room. Come and I will show you where it is 
concealed.” 

She led him to the miller’s room, showed him the massive 
coffer in which lay her master’s wealth, and gave him a 
piece of iron wherewith to prise it open. 

“ I will go to my own room,” she said, “ and get my little 
savings, and then we shall be ready to go.” 

So she slipped away, and her erstwhile sweetheart set to 
work on the miller’s coffer. 

“ The villain! ” said Hannchen to herself when she was 
outside the room. “ Now I know that master was right 
when he said that Heinrich was no fit suitor to come 
courting me.” 

With that she slammed the door to and turned the key, 
shutting the thief in a room as secure as any prison-cell. 
He threatened and implored her, but Hannchen was 

139 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

deaf to oaths and entreaties alike. Outside she found 
the miller’s son playing happily, and called him to her. 
“ Go to father as quickly as you can,” she said, putting 
him on the road to Hersel. “You will meet him down 
there. Tell him there is a thief in the mill.” 

The child ran as fast as his little legs would carry him, 
but ere he had gone many yards a shrill whistle sounded 
from the barred window behind which Heinrich was 
imprisoned. 

“ Diether,” shouted the robber to an accomplice in hiding, 
“ catch the child and come and stop this wench’s mouth.” 
Hannchen looked around for the person thus addressed, 
but no one was in sight. A moment later, however, 
Diether sprang up from a ditch, seized the frightened 
boy, and ran back toward the mill. The girl had but little 
time in which to decide on a course of action. If she 
barricaded herself in the mill, might not the ruffian slay 
the child ? On the other hand, if she waited to meet him, 
she had no assurance that he would not kill them both. 
So she retired to the mill, locked the door, and awaited 
what fate had in store for her. In vain the robber 
threatened to kill the child and burn the mill over her 
head if she would not open to him at once. Seeing that 
his threats had no effect, he cast about for some means of 
entering the mill. His quick eye noted one unprotected 
point, an opening in the wall connected with the big mill¬ 
wheel, a by no means easy mode of ingress. But, finding 
no other way, he threw the frightened child on the grass 
and slipped through the aperture. 

Meanwhile Hannchen, who from the position of her 
upper window could not see what was going on, was 
pondering how she could attract the attention of the miller 
or any of their neighbours. At last she hit upon a plan. 
140 


Roscbach & Its Legend 

It was Sunday and the mill was at rest. If she were to 
set the machinery in motion, the unusual sight of a mill 
at work on the day of rest would surely point to some 
untoward happening. Hardly had the idea entered her 
head ere the huge sails were revolving. At that very 
moment Diether had reached the interior of the great 
drum-wheel, and his surprise and horror were unbounded 
when it commenced to rotate. It was useless to attempt 
to stop the machinery; useless, also, to appeal to Hannchen. 
Round and round he went, till at last he fell unconscious 
on the bottom of the engine, and still he went on rotating. 
As Hannchen had anticipated, the miller and his family 
were vastly astonished to see the mill in motion, and 
hastened home from church to learn the reason for this 
departure from custom. Some of their neighbours accom¬ 
panied them. In a few words Hannchen told them all 
that had occurred; then her courage forsook her and she 
fainted in the arms of the miller’s eldest son, who had 
long been in love with her, and whom she afterward 
married. 

The robbers were taken in chains to Bonn, where for their 
many crimes they suffered the extreme penalty of the law. 

Rosebach and its Legend 

The quiet and peaceful valley of Hammerstein is one of 
the most beautiful in all Rhineland, yet, like many 
another lovely stretch of country, this valley harbours 
some gruesome tales, and among such there is one, its 
scene the village of Rosebach, which is of particular 
interest, as it is typical of the Middle Ages, and casts a 
light on the manner of life and thought common in those 
days. For many centuries there stood at this village of 
Rosebach a monastery, which no longer exists, and it was 

141 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

probably one of its early abbots who first wrote down the 
legend, for it is concerned primarily with the strange 
events which led to the founding and endowment of this 
religious house, and its whole tenor suggests the pen of a 
medieval cleric. 

In a remote and shadowy time there lived at Schloss 
Rosebach a certain Otto, Count of Reuss-Marlinberg of 
Hammerstein ; and this Count’s evil deeds had made him 
notorious far and near, while equally ill-famed was his 
favourite henchman, Riguenbach by name, a man who 
had borne arms in the Crusades and had long since 
renounced all belief in religion. This ruffian was con¬ 
stantly in attendance on his master, Otto ; and one day, 
when the pair were riding along the high-road together, 
they chanced to espy a bewitching maiden who was 
making her way from a neighbouring village to the 
convent of Walsdorf, being minded to enter the novitiate 
there and eventually take the veil. The Count doffed 
his hat to the prospective nun, less because he wished to 
be courteous than because it was his habit to salute every 
wayfarer he encountered on his domain; and Riguenbach, 
much amused by Otto’s civility to one of low degree, 
burst into a loud laugh of derision and called after the 
maiden, telling her to come back. She obeyed his behest, 
and thereupon the two horsemen drew rein and asked the 
damsel whither she was bound. “ To Walsdorf,” she 
replied; and though Otto himself would have let her go 
forward as she pleased, the crafty Riguenbach was not 
so minded. “ There are many dangers in the way,” he 
said to the girl; “ if you push on now that evening is 
drawing near you may fall a prey to robbers or wolves, so 
you had better come to the castle with us, spend the night 
there, and continue your journey on the morrow.” Pleased 
142 


Rosebach & Its Legend 

by the apparently friendly offer, and never dreaming of 
the fate in store for her, the girl willingly accepted the 
invitation. That night the people around Schloss Rosebach 
heard piercing screams and wondered what new villainy 
was on foot. But the massive stone walls kept their secret, 
and the luckless maiden never again emerged from the 
castle. 

For a time the Count’s crime went unpunished, and about 
a year later he commenced paying his addresses to Elde- 
garda, a lady of noble birth. In due course the nuptials 
of the pair were celebrated. The bride had little idea 
what manner of man she had espoused, but she was 
destined to learn this shortly; for on the very night of 
their marriage an apparition rose between the two. 

“ Otto,” cried the ghost in weird, sepulchral tones, 
“ I alone am thy lawful spouse; through thee I lost all 
hopes of Heaven, and now I am come to reward thee for 
thy evil deeds.” The Count turned livid with fear, and 
the blush on Eldegarda’s cheek faded to an ashen hue; 
but the spectre remained with them throughout the night. 
And night after night she came to them thus, till at last 
Otto grew desperate and summoned to his aid a Church¬ 
man who happened to be in the neighbourhood, the Abbot 
Bernard of Clairvaux. 

Now this Bernard enjoyed no small fame as a worker of 
miracles, but when Otto unfolded his case to him the 
Abbot declared straightway that no miracle would be 
justifiable in the present instance, and that only by repent¬ 
ance and by complete renunciation of the world might 
the Count be released from his nightly menace. Otto 
hung his head on hearing this verdict, and as he stood 
hesitating, pondering whether it were possible for him to 
forgo all earthly joys, his old henchman, Riguenbach, 

M3 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

chanced to enter, and learning his master’s quandary, he 
laughed loudly and advised the Count to eject Bernard 
forcibly. The Abbot met the retainer’s mirth with a look 
of great severity, and on Riguenbach showing that he 
was still bent on insolence, the Churchman cried to him: 
“ Get thee behind me, Satan ”; whereupon a flame of 
lightning darted suddenly across the chamber, and the 
man who had long aided and abetted the Count’s wicked¬ 
ness was consumed to ashes. 

For a moment Otto stood aghast at the awful fate of his 
retainer; and now, beholding how terrible a thing is 
divine vengeance, he began at last to feel truly repentant. 
He consented to have his marriage annulled without delay, 
and even declared that he himself would become a monk. 
At the same time he counselled his wife to take the veil, 
and they parted, thinking never to see each other again. 
But one night, ere either of them had taken the irrevocable 
vows, the Virgin Mary appeared to Abbot Bernard and 
told him he had acted unwisely in parting the bride and 
bridegroom in this wise, for was not Eldegarda wholly 
innocent ? The Churchman instantly returned to Otto’s 
presence, and on the following day the Count and his 
wife were duly remarried. The newly found piety of the 
penitent found expression in the building and endowment 
of a religious edifice upon his domains. 

So it was, then, that the Abbey of Rosebach was founded, 
and though the ruthless hand of time has levelled its walls, 
the strange events to which they owed their being long 
ago are still remembered and recited in the lovely vale of 
Hammerstein; for, though all human things must needs 
perish, a good story long outlives them all. 


144 


The Dancers of Ramersdorf 


The Dancers of Ramersdorf 

At Ramersdorf every Sunday afternoon the lads and lasses 
of the hamlet gathered on the village green and danced 
gaily through the sunny hours. But wild prophecies of 
the coming end of the world, when the year 1000 
should break, were spreading throughout the countryside, 
and the spirit of fear haunted the people, so that music 
died away from their hearts and there was no more dancing 
on the village green. Instead they spent the hours praying 
in the church for divine mercy, and the Abbot of Lowen- 
burg was well pleased. 

The dreaded year came and went, yet the world had not 
ceased; the sun still rose and set, life went on just the 
same. So fear passed from the hearts of the people, and 
because they were happy again the young folk once more 
assembled to dance the Sundays away on the village green. 
But the abbot was wroth at this. When the music began 
he appeared among the villagers, commanding them to 
cease from their revels and bethink themselves of the 
House of God. But the lads and lasses laughed, and the 
music went on as they footed it gaily. Then the abbot 
was angered; he raised his hands to heaven and cursed 
the thoughtless crowd, condemning the villagers to dance 
there unceasingly for a year and a day. 

As they heard the dreadful words the young folk tried to 
stop, but their feet must needs go on to the endless music. 
Faster and faster in giddy round they went, day and night, 
rain and shine, throughout the changing seasons, until the 
last hours of the extra day, when they fell in a senseless 
heap in the hollow worn by their unresting feet. When 
they awoke to consciousness all reason had passed from 
them. To the day of their death they remained helpless 

k 145 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

idiots. Henceforth the village green was deserted; no 
more were seen the lads and lasses dancing there on the 
Sabbath day. 

The Lowenburg 

Tradition asserts that on the summit of this mountain 
once stood a castle, of which, however, not the slightest 
trace can be found at the present day. There is also a 
story of the lord who dwelt there, Hermann von Heins- 
berg, with whom, for his sins, the direct line of the 
family became extinct. 

Graf Hermann was possessed by one overmastering pas¬ 
sion, that of the chase. The greater part of his life was 
spent in the dense forests which clothed the valleys and 
mountains about his castle. Every other interest must, 
perforce, stand aside. The cornfields, vineyards, and 
gardens of his vassals were oftentimes devastated in his 
sport, to the utter ruin of many. If any dared complain 
he laughed at or reviled them; but if he were in angry 
mood he set his hounds on them and hunted his vassals 
as quarry, either killing them outright or leaving them 
terribly injured. Needless to say, he was well hated by 
these people, also by his own class, for his character 
was too fierce and overbearing even for their toler¬ 
ance. To crown his unpopularity, he was under the ban 
of the all-powerful Church, for saints’ days and Lord’s 
Day alike he hunted to his heart’s content, and once, 
on receiving a remonstrance, had threatened to hunt 
the Abbot of Heisterbach himself. So he lived, iso¬ 
lated, except for his troop of jagers, from the rest of 
mankind. The forest was his world, his only friends the 
hounds. 

Once, on the eve of a holy festival, Hermann set out to 
146 


The Lowenburg 

hunt in the ancient forest about the base of the Lowenburg. 
In the excitement of the chase he outstripped his followers, 
his quarry disappeared, and, overtaken by night, his sur¬ 
roundings, in the dim light, took on such an unfamiliar 
aspect that he completely lost all sense of direction. Up 
and down he paced in unrestrained yet impotent anger, 
feeling that he was under some evil spell. Maddened by 
this idea, he endeavoured to hack his way through the 
thick undergrowth, but the matted boughs and dense 
foliage were as effectual as prison bars. He was trapped, 
he told himself, in some enchanted forest, for the place 
seemed more and more unfamiliar. He strove to bring 
back some recollection of the spot, which surely he must 
have passed a thousand times. But no—he could not dis¬ 
tinguish any feature that seemed familiar. His spirits 
sank lower and lower, his strength seemed on the point of 
failing, his brain seemed to be on lire. Round and round 
he went like some trapped animal; then he threw himself 
madly upon a mass of tangled underwood and succeeded 
in breaking through to a more open space. This also 
seemed unfamiliar, and in the dim light of the stars the 
tall trees shut him in as if with towers of impenetrable 
shadow; silence seemed to lay everything under a spell 
of terror, ominous of coming evil. 

Wearied in body and mind, Hermann flung himself down 
on the sward and quickly fell asleep. But suddenly a 
plunging in the brushwood aroused him, and with the 
instinct of the huntsman he sprang up instantly, seizing 
his spear and whistling to his dogs, which, however, 
crouched nearer to the earth, their hair bristling and eyes 
red with fear. Again their master called, but they refused 
to stir, whining, with eyes strained and fixed on the under¬ 
growth. Then Graf Hermann went forward alone to the 

147 


Hero Tales ^ Legends of the Rhine 

spot whence proceeded the ominous sound, his spear 
poised, ready to strike. 

He was about to penetrate into the brushwood when sud¬ 
denly there emerged from it a majestic-looking man, who 
seemed as if hotly pursued. He was dressed in ancient 
garb, carrying a large crossbow in his right hand. A 
curved hunting-horn hung at his side, and an old-fashioned 
hunting-knife was stuck in his girdle. 

With a stately motion of the hand he waved Hermann 
aside, then he raised the horn to his lips and blew upon it 
a terrible blast so unearthly in sound that the forest and 
mountains sent back echoes like the cry of the lost, to 
which the hounds gave tongue with a howl of fear. As 
if in answer to the echoes, there suddenly appeared hun¬ 
dreds of skeleton stags, of enormous size, each bestridden 
by a skeleton hunter. With one accord the ghostly riders 
spurred on their steeds, which with lowered antlers ad¬ 
vanced upon the stranger, who, with a scream for mercy, 
sought frenziedly for some means of evading his grisly 
pursuers. 

For the space of an hour the dreadful chase went on, 
Graf Hermann rooted to the spot with horror, overcome 
by a sense of helplessness. There in the centre he stood, 
the pivot round which circled the infernal hunt, unable to 
stay the relentless riders as with bony hands rattling 
against their skeleton steeds they encouraged them to 
charge, gore, and trample the hapless stranger, whose 
cries of agony were drowned by shrieks of fiendish glee 
and the incessant cracking of whips. Overcome at last 
by terror, the count fell senseless, his eyes dazed by the 
still whirling spectres and their flying quarry. 

When at last he slowly awaked from his swoon he looked 
around, fearing to see again the hideous spectacle. All 
148 


The Lowenburg 

but the stranger, however, had vanished. Graf Hermann 
shuddered as he looked upon him, and only with diffi¬ 
culty could he summon sufficient courage to address 
him. Indeed, it was only after the unwonted action of 
crossing himself that he could speak. 

“ Who and what are you ? ” he asked in a hushed tone. 
But the stranger made no reply, except to sigh mournfully. 
Again the count asked the question, and again received 
but a sigh for answer. 

“ Then in the name of the Most High God I conjure you, 
speak! ” he said the third time, 

The stranger turned to him, as if suddenly released from 
bonds. 

“ By the power of God’s holy name the spell is broken at 
last. Listen now to me ! ” 

He beckoned Hermann to his side and in strange, stern 
tones he related the following: 

“ I am your ancestor. Like you, I loved the chase beyond 
everything in life—beyond our holy faith or the welfare of 
any human being, man, woman, or child. To all that 
stood in my path I showed no mercy. There came a time 
when famine visited the land. The harvest was destroyed 
by blight and the people starved. In their extremity they 
broke into my forests; famished with hunger, they de¬ 
stroyed and carried off the game. Beside myself with 
rage, I swore that they should suffer for it—that for every 
head of game destroyed I would exact a human life. I 
kept my oath. Arming my retainers, servants, and hunts¬ 
men, I seized my presumptuous vassals in the dead of 
night, and dragging them to the castle, I flung them into 
the deepest dungeons. There for three days I let them 
starve—for three days also I kept my hounds without 
food. Meantime my huntsmen had caught a great number 

149 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

of the largest and strongest deer in the forests. At the 
end of three days the unfortunate wretches were brought 
out, diminished now by a full hundred. My ready re¬ 
tainers bound them naked to the stags. My best steeds 
were saddled. Then the kennels were thrown open and 
the famished hounds rushed forth like a host of demons. 
Off went the deer like the wind, each with his human 
burden, the dogs following, and then the horsemen, shout¬ 
ing with glee at the new sport. By nightfall not a stag 
or his rider was left alive. The hounds in their fury 
worried and tore at both man and beast, and the last 
unfortunate wretch met a hideous death on this spot 
where we now stand.” 

He paused as if overcome by the memory of his crime. 

“ God avenged that dreadful deed. That night I died, 
and I am now suffering the tortures of the damned. 
Every night I am hunted by my victims, as you have 
seen. I am now the quarry, hunted from the castle court, 
on through the forest, to this hidden and haunted spot. 
Thousands and thousands of times I have suffered this: I 
endure all the agonies I made them suffer. I am doomed 
to undergo this to the last day, when I shall be hunted 
over the wastes of hell by legions of demons.” 

Again he paused, his eyes terrible with the anguish of a 
lost soul. He resumed in a sterner tone: 

“ Take warning by my fate. Providence, kinder to you 
than to me, has guided you hither to-night that you 
might learn of my punishment. While you still have 
time repent of your crimes and endeavour to make 
amends for the suffering you have inflicted. Remember 
—the wages of sin is death. Remember me—and my 
fate! ” 

The next moment the phantom had faded from view. 
*50 


The Lowenburg 

Only the hounds were crouching near the count, panting 
fearfully. All else was silent gloom and night. After a 
terrible vigil the morning came, and Graf Hermann, now 
a changed man, returned to his castle in silence, and 
henceforth endeavoured to profit by the warning and follow 
the advice of his unhappy ancestor. 


CHAPTER IV : DRACHENFELS 
TO RHEINSTEIN 

The Dragons Rock 

A MONG the many legends invented by the early 
Christian monks to advance their faith, there are 
L few more beautiful than that attached to the 
Drachenfels , the Dragon’s Rock, a rugged and picturesque 
mass of volcanic porphyry rising above the Rhine on its 
right bank. Half-way up one of its pointed crags is a dark 
cavern known as the ‘ Dragon’s Cave,’ which was at one 
time, in that misty past to which all legends belong, 
the habitation of a hideous monster, half-beast and half¬ 
reptile. The peasants of the surrounding district held the 
creature in superstitious awe, worshipped him, and offered 
up sacrifices of human beings at the instigation of their 
pagan priests. Foremost among the worshippers of the 
dragon were two warrior princes, Rinbod and Horsrik, 
who frequently made an onslaught on the Christian people 
dwelling on the opposite bank of the Rhine, carrying off 
many captives to be offered as sacrifices to the dragon. 

On one such occasion, while, according to their custom, 
they were dividing their prisoners, the pagan princes 
quarrelled over one of their captives, a Christian maiden, 
whose beauty and helpless innocence won the hearts of her 
fierce captors, so that each desired to possess her, and 
neither was inclined to renounce his claim. The quarrel 
became so bitter at length that the princes seized their 
weapons and were about to fight for the fair spoil. But 
at this juncture their priests intervened. 

“ It is not meet,” said they, “ that two noble princes 
should come to blows over a mere Christian maid. To¬ 
morrow she shall be offered to the dragon, in thanks- 
I5 2 


THE DRACHENFELS 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page ig2 


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The Dragon’s Rock 

giving for your victory.” And they felt that they had 
done well, for had they not averted the impending quarrel, 
and at the same time gained a victim for their cruel rites ? 
But the heart of Rinbod was heavy indeed, for he truly 
loved the young Christian maid, and would have given 
his life to save her from the horrible R ^ that awaited 
her. However, the decree of the pries 4 was irrevocable, 
and no pleadings of his could a^a*i. The girl was 
informed of the cruel destiny that was to befall her on the 
morrow, and with a calm mind she sought consolation 
from Heaven to enable her to meet her fate with courage 
befitting a Christian. 

Early on the following morning she was led with much 
ceremony to a spot before the Dragon’s Cave and there 
bound to an oak, to await the approach of the monster, 
whose custom it was to sally forth at sunrise in search of 
prey. The procession of priests, warriors, and peasants 
who had followed the victim to the place of sacrifice now 
climbed to the summit of the crag and watched eagerly 
for the coming of the dragon. Rinbod watched also, but 
it was with eyes full of anguish and apprehension. The 
Christian maid seemed to him more like a spirit than 
a human being, so calmly, so steadfastly did she bear 
herself. 

Suddenly a stifled cry broke from the lips of the watchers 
—the hideous monster was seen dragging its heavy coils 
from the cavern, fire issuing from its mouth and nostrils. 
At its mighty roar even the bravest trembled. But the 
Christian maid alone showed no sign of fear; she awaited 
the oncoming of the dreadful creature with a hymn of 
praise on her lips. Nearer and nearer came the dragon, 
and at length, with a horrible roar, it sprang at its prey. 
But even as it did so the maiden held out her crucifix 

153 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

before her, and the dragon was checked in its onrush. A 
moment later it turned aside and plunged into the-Rhine. 
The people on the crag were filled with awe at the 
miraculous power of the strange symbol which had 
overcome their idol and, descending, hastened to free 
the young girl from her bonds. When they learned the 
significance of the cross they begged that she would 
send them teachers that they might learn about the new 
religion. In vain their priests endeavoured to dissuade 
them. They had seen the power of the crucifix, and their 
renunciation of their pagan creed was complete. 

Among the first to adopt the Christian religion was 
Rinbod; he married the beautiful captive and built a 
castle for her on the Drachenfels, whose ruins remain to 
this day. 

It seems a pity that such a beautiful legend should have 
doubts cast upon its authenticity, but it has been con¬ 
jectured that the word Drachenfels has a geological rather 
than a romantic significance—being, in fact, derived from 
Trachyt-fels , meaning 4 Trachyte-rock.* This view is 
supported by the fact that there is another Drachenfels 
near Mannheim of a similar geological construction, but 
without the legend. However, it is unlikely that the 
people of antiquity would bestow a geological name upon 
any locality. 

Okkenfels: A Rash Oath 

On a rugged crag overlooking the Rhine above the town 
of Linz stands the ruined stronghold of Okkenfels. 
History tells us little or nothing concerning this ancient 
fortress, but legend covers the deficiency with the tale of 
the Baron’s Rash Oath. 

Rheinhard von Renneberg, according to the story, 
154 


Okkenfels : A Rash Oath 

flourished about the beginning of the eleventh century, 
when the Schloss Okkenfels; was a favourite rendezvous 
with the rude nobility of the surrounding district. Though 
they were none of them distinguished for their manners, 
by far the most rugged and uncouth was the Baron von 
Renneberg himself. Rough in appearance, abrupt in 
conversation, and inclined to harshness in all his dealings, 
he inspired in the breast of his only daughter a feeling 
more akin to awe than affection. 

The gentle Etelina grew up to be a maiden of singular 
beauty, of delicate form and feature, and under the 
careful tutelage of the castle chaplain she became as 
good as she was beautiful. Lovers she had in plenty, for 
the charms of Etelina and the wealth of her noble father, 
whose sole heiress she was, formed a combination quite 
irresistible in the eyes of the young gallants who fre¬ 
quented the castle. But none loved her more sincerely 
than one of the baron’s retainers, a young knight of Linz, 
Rudolph by name. 

On one occasion Rheinhard was obliged to set out with 
his troop to join the wars in Italy, and ere he departed 
he confided his daughter to the care of the venerable 
chaplain, while his castle and lands he left in charge of 
Sir Rudolph. As may be supposed, the knight and the 
maiden frequently met, and ere long it became evident 
that Rudolph’s passion was returned. The worthy 
chaplain, who loved the youth as a son, did not seek to 
interfere with the course of his wooing, and so in due 
time the lovers were betrothed. 

At the end of a year the alarming news reached them that 
the baron was returning from the wars, bringing in his 
train a noble bridegroom for Etelina. In despair the 
lovers sought the old chaplain and begged his advice. 

J 55 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

They knew only too well that the baron would not brook 
resistance to his will; for he had ever dealt ruthlessly 
with opposition. Yet both were determined that nothing 
should part them. 

“ I would rather die with Rudolph than marry another,” 
cried the grief-stricken maiden. And indeed it seemed 
that one or other of these alternatives would soon fall to 
her lot. 

But the wise old priest was planning a way of escape. 

“ Ye were meant for one another, my children,” he said 
philosophically ; “ therefore it is not for man to separate 
you. I will marry you at once, and I know a place where 
you may safely hide for a season.” 

It was nearing midnight on the eve of the day fixed for 
Rheinhard’s return, so there was no time to be lost. The 
three repaired to the chapel, where the marriage was at 
once solemnized. Taking a basket of bread, meat, and 
wine, a lamp, and some other necessaries, the old man 
conducted the newly married pair through a subterranean 
passage to a cavern in the rock whereon the castle stood, 
a place known only to himself. Then, having blessed 
them, he withdrew. 

Early on the following morning came the baron and his 
train, with the noble knight chosen as a husband for 
Etelina. 

Rheinhard looked in vain for his daughter among the 
crowd of retainers who waited to welcome him. “ Where 
is my little maid ? ” he asked. 

The chaplain answered evasively. The damsel was ill 
abed, he replied. When the noble lord had refreshed him¬ 
self he should see her. 

Directly the repast was over he hastened to his daughter’s 
apartment, only to find her flown! Dismayed and angry, 
I5 6 


Okkenfels: A Rash Oath 

he rushed to the chaplain and demanded an explanation. 
The good old man, after a vain attempt to soothe his 
irate patron, revealed all—all, that is, save the place 
where the fugitives were concealed, and that he firmly 
refused to divulge. The priest was committed to the 
lowest dungeon, a vile den to which access could only be 
got by means of a trap-door and a rope. 

With his own hands the baron swung to the massive trap, 
swearing a deep oath. 

“ If I forgive my daughter, or any of her accomplices, 
may I die suddenly where I now stand, and may my soul 
perish for ever! ” 

The disappointed bridegroom soon returned to his own 
land, and the baron, whose increasing moroseness made 
him cordially hated by his attendants, was left to the 
bitterness of his thoughts. 

Meanwhile Rudolph and his bride had escaped unseen 
from the castle rock and now dwelt in the forests skirting 
the Seven Mountains. While the summer lasted all went 
well with them; they, and the little son who was born to 
them, were content with the sustenance the forest afforded. 
But in the winter all was changed. Starvation stared 
them in the face. More and more pitiful became their 
condition, till at length Rudolph resolved to seek the baron, 
and give his life, if need be, to save his wife and child. 
That very day Rheinhard was out hunting in the forest. 
Imagine his surprise when a gaunt figure, clad in a bear¬ 
skin, stepped from the undergrowth and bade him follow, 
if he wished to see his daughter alive. The startled old 
man obeyed the summons, and arrived at length before a 
spacious cavern, which his guide motioned him to enter. 
Within, on a pile of damp leaves, lay Etelina and her 
child, both half-dead with starvation. Rheinhard’s anger 

157 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

speedily melted at the pathetic sight, and he freely forgave 
his daughter and Rudolph, his hitherto unrecognized guide, 
and bade them return with him to Okkenfels. 

Etelina’s first request was for a pardon for the old chaplain, 
and Rheinhard himself went to raise the heavy trap-door. 
While peering into the gloom, however, he stumbled and 
fell headlong into the dungeon below. “A judgment!” 
he shrieked as he fell, then all was silence. 

The bruised remains of the proud baron were interred in 
the parish church of Linz, and henceforth Etelina and her 
husband lived happily at Okkenfels. But both they and 
the old chaplain offered many a pious prayer for the soul 
of the unhappy Baron Rheinhard. 

Oberworth 

In the middle of the Rhine, a little above Coblentz, lies 
the island of Oberworth, where at one time stood a 
famous nunnery. Included in the traditional lore of the 
neighbourhood is a tragic tale of the beautiful Ida, 
daughter of the Freiherr von Metternich, who died 
within its walls in the fourteenth century. 

Von Metternich, who dwelt at Coblentz, was a wealthy 
and powerful noble, exceedingly proud of his fair daughter, 
and firmly convinced that none but the highest in the land 
was fit mate for her. But Ida had other views, and had 
already bestowed her heart on a young squire in her 
father’s train. It is true that Gerbert was a high-born 
youth, of stainless life, pleasing appearance, and gentle 
manners, and, moreover, one who was likely at no 
distant date to win his spurs. Nevertheless the lovers 
instinctively concealed their mutual affection from 
von Metternich, and plighted their troth in secret. 

But so ardent an affection could not long remain hidden. 
158 


SCHLOSS LAHNECK 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R. B . A . 
Facing page 158 






















Oberworth 

The time came when the nobleman discovered how 
matters stood between his daughter and Gerbert, and 
with angry frowns and muttered oaths he resolved to 
exercise his paternal authority. “ My daughter shall go 
to a nunnery,” he said to himself. “ And as for that 
jackanapes, he must be got rid of at once.” He pon¬ 
dered how he might conveniently rid himself of the 
audacious squire. 

That night he dispatched Gerbert on a mission to the 
grand prior of the Knights-Templars, who had his abode 
at the neighbouring castle of Lahneck. The unsuspecting 
squire took the sealed missive and set out, thinking as he 
rode along how rich he was in possessing so sweet a love 
as Ida, and dreaming of the time when his valour and 
prowess should have made their marriage possible. But 
his dreams would have been rudely disturbed had he seen 
what was passing at Coblentz. For his betrothed, in spite 
of her tears and pleadings, was being secretly conveyed 
to the nunnery of Oberworth, there to remain until she 
should have forgotten her lover—as though the stone 
walls of a convent could shut out the imaginings of a maid! 
However, Gerbert knew nothing of this, and he rode along 
in leisurely fashion, until at length he came to the Schloss 
Lahneck, where he was at once conducted into the presence 
of the grand prior of the, Knights-Templars. 

The grand prior was a man of middle age, with an 
expression of settled melancholy on his swarthy features. 
Gerbert approached him with becoming reverence, bent 
his knee, and presented the missive. 

The prior turned his gaze so earnestly on the young 
man’s face that Gerbert dropped his eyes in confusion. A 
moment later the prior broke the seal and hastily scanned 
the letter. 


159 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

“ Who mayest thou be, youth ? ” he asked abruptly. 

“ Gerbert von Isenburg, sir.” 

“ And thy mother ? ” 

“ Guba von Isenburg,” was the astonished Gerbert’s 
reply. 

The prior seemed to be struggling with deep emotion. 

“ Knowest thou the purport of this missive?” he said at 
last. 

“It concerns me not,” answered Gerbert simply. 

“Nay, my son,” said the prior, “ it doth concern thee, and 
deeply, too. Know that it is thy death-warrant, boy ! 
The Freiherr has requested me to send thee to the wars 
in Palestine, and so to place thee that death will be a 
certainty. This he asks in the name of our ancient friend¬ 
ship and for the sake of our order, to which he has ever 
shown himself well disposed.” 

Seeing the dismay and incredulity which were depicted in 
his listener’s face, the prior hastened to read aloud a 
passage describing von Metternich’s discovery of his 
daughter’s love for the humble squire, and Gerbert could 
no longer doubt that his fate was sealed. 

The prior looked at him kindly. 

“ Gerbert,” he said, “ I am not going to put the cruel 
order into execution. Though I lose friendship, the 
honour of our order, life itself, the son of Guba von 
Isenburg shall not suffer at my hands. I sympathize with 
thy passion for the fair Ida. I myself loved thy mother.” 
The impetuous Gerbert started to his feet, hand on sword, 
at the mention of his mother, whose good name he set 
before all else; but with a dignified gesture the prior 
motioned him to his seat. 

Then in terse, passionate phrases the elder man told how 
he had loved the gentle Guba for years, always hesitating 

160 


The Dance of Death 

to declare his passion lest the lady should scorn him. At 
length he could bear it no longer, and made up his mind 
to reveal his love to her. With this intent he rode toward 
her home, only to learn from a passing page that Guba, his 
mistress, was to be married that very day to von Isenburg. 
He gave to the page a ring, bidding him carry it to his 
mistress with the message that it was from one who loved 
her greatly, and who for her sake renounced the world. 

“ The ring,” he concluded, “ is on thy finger, and in 
thy face and voice are thy mother’s likeness. Canst thou 
wonder that I would spare thy life?” 

Gerbert listened in respectful silence. His love for Ida 
enabled him to sympathize with the pathetic tale unfolded 
by the prior. Tears fell unchecked from the eyes of both. 
“ And now,” said the prior at last, “ we must look to thy 
safety.” 

“ I would not bring misfortune on thee,” said Gerbert. 
“ May I not go to Palestine and win my way through with 
my sword ? ” 

“ It is impossible,” said the elder man. “Von Metternich 
would see to it that thou wert slain. Thou must go to 
Swabia, where a prior of our order will look after thy 
safety in the meantime.” 

The same day Gerbert was conveyed to Swabia, where, for 
a time at least, he was safe from persecution. 

The Dance of Death 

In the nunnery of Oberworth, on a pallet in a humble cell, 
Ida lay dying. A year had gone past since she had been 
separated from her lover, and every day had seen her 
grow weaker and more despondent. Forget Gerbert? 
That would she never while life remained to her. Wearily 
she tossed on her pallet, her only companion a sister of 

l 161 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

the convent. Willingly now would the Freiherr give his 
dearest possessions to save his daughter, but already she was 
beyond assistance, her only hope the peace of the grave. 

“ I am dying, sister,” she said to her attendant. “ Never¬ 
more shall I see my dear Gerbert—ah ! nevermore.” 
“Hush,” murmured the nun gently, “ stranger things have 
happened. All may yet be well.” And to divert the 
dying maid’s attention from her grief she recited tales of 
lovers who had been reunited after many difficulties. 

But Ida refused to be pacified. 

“ Alas! ” she said, “ I am betrothed, yet I must die unwed.” 
“Heaven forbid!” cried the pious nun in alarm. “ For 
then must thou join in the dance of death.” 

It was a popular belief in that district that a betrothed 
maiden who died before her wedding was celebrated must, 
after her death, dance on a spot in the centre of the island 
whereon no grass or herb ever grew—that is, unless in the 
interval she took the veil. Every night at twelve o’clock 
a band of such hapless maidens may be seen dancing in 
the moonlight, doomed to continue their nocturnal revels 
till they meet with a lover. And woe betide the knight 
who ventures within their reach! They dance round and 
round him and with him till he falls dead, whereupon 
the youngest maid claims him for her lover. Henceforth 
she rests quietly in her grave and joins no more in the 
ghostly frolic. 

This weird tradition Ida now heard from the lips of the 
nun, who herself claimed to have witnessed the scenes she 
described. 

“ I beseech thee,” said the sister, “ do but join our convent, 
and all will yet be well.” 

“ I die,” murmured Ida, heeding not the words of her 
companion. “ Gerbert—we shall meet again ! ” 

162 


The Dance of Death 

Gerbert, her lover, heard the sad news in his dwelling- 
place on the shores of Lake Constance, and returned to 
Oberworth with all speed. A week had elapsed ere he 
arrived, and Ida’s body was already interred in the vaults 
of the convent. 

It was a night of storm and darkness. No boatman would 
venture on the Rhine, but Gerbert, anxious to pay the last 
respects to the body of his beloved, was not to be deterred. 
With his own hands he unmoored a vessel and sailed 
across to Oberworth. Having landed at that part of the 
island furthest from the convent, he was obliged to pass 
the haunted spot on his way thither. The circular patch 
of barren earth was said to be a spot accursed, by reason 
of sacrilege and suicide committed there. But such things 
were far from the thoughts of the distraught knight. 
Suddenly he heard a strange sound, like the whisper of a 
familiar voice—a sound which, despite its quietness, seemed 
to make itself heard above the fury of the storm. Looking 
up, he beheld a band of white-robed maidens dancing in the 
charmed circle. One of them, a little apart from the 
others, seemed to him to be his lost Ida. The familiar 
figure, the grace of mien, the very gesture with which she 
beckoned him, were hers, and he rushed forward to clasp 
her to his heart. Adroitly she eluded his grasp and 
mingled with the throng. Gerbert followed with bursting 
heart, seized her in his arms, and found that the other 
phantoms had surrounded them. Something in the un¬ 
earthly music fascinated him; he felt impelled to dance 
round and round, till his head reeled. And still he danced 
with his phantom bride, and still the maidens whirled 
about them. On the stroke of one the dancers vanished 
and the knight sank to the ground, all but dead with fatigue. 
In the morning he was found by the kindly nuns, who 

163 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

tended him carefully. But all their skill and attention 
were in vain; for Gerbert lived only long enough to tell of 
his adventure to the sisterhood. This done, he expired 
with the name of his beloved spirit-bride upon his lips. 

Stolzenfels: The Alchemist 

Alchemy was a common pursuit in the Middle Ages. The 
poor followed it eagerly in the vain desire for gold; the 
rich spent their wealth in useless experiments, or showered 
it on worthless charlatans. 

Thus it came about that Archbishop Werner of Falken- 
stein, owner of the grim fortress of Stolzenfels and a 
wealthy and powerful Churchman, was an amateur of the 
hermetic art, while his Treasurer, who was by no means 
rich, was also by way of being an alchemist. To indulge 
his passion for the bizarre science the latter had extracted 
many a golden piece from the coffers of his reverend 
master, always meaning, of course, to pay them back when 
the weary experiments should have crystallized into the 
coveted philosopher’s stone. He had in his daughter 
Elizabeth a treasure which might well have outweighed 
the whole of the Archbishop’s coffers, but the lust for 
gold had blinded the covetous Treasurer to all else. 

One night—a wild, stormy night, when the wind tore 
shrieking round the battlements of Stolzenfels—there 
came to the gate a pilgrim, sombre of feature as of garb, 
with wicked, glinting eyes. The Archbishop was not at 
that time resident in the castle, but his Treasurer, hearing 
that the new-comer was learned in alchemical mysteries, 
bade him enter without delay. A room was made ready 
in one of the highest towers, and there the Treasurer and 
his pilgrim friend spent many days and nights. Elizabeth 
saw with dismay that a change was coming over her 
164 


STOLZENFELS 

LOUIS WEIRl'ER, R.B.A. 

( 

Facing page 164 












































Stolzenfels : The Alchemist 

father. He was no longer gentle and kind, but morose 
and reserved, and he passed less time in her company than 
he was wont. 

At length a courier arrived with tidings of the approach 
of the Archbishop, who was bringing some noble guests to 
the castle. To the dismay of his daughter, the Treasurer 
suddenly turned pale and, brushing aside her solicitous 
inquiries, fled to the mysterious chamber. Elizabeth 
followed, convinced that something had occurred to upset 
her father seriously. She was too late—the door was 
locked ere she reached it; but she could hear angry 
voices within, the voices of her father and the pilgrim. 
The Treasurer seemed to be uttering bitter reproaches, 
while ever and anon the deep, level voice of his com¬ 
panion could be heard. 

“ Bring hither a virgin,” he said. “The heart’s blood of 
a virgin is necessary to our schemes, as I have told thee 
many times. How can I give thee gold, and thou wilt not 
obey my instructions ? ” 

“Villain!” cried the Treasurer, beside himself. “Thou 
hast taken my gold, thou hast made me take the gold 
of my master also for thy schemes. Wouldst thou have 
me shed innocent blood ? ” 

« I tell thee again, without it our experiments are vain.” 
At that moment the door was flung open and the 
Treasurer emerged, too immersed in his anxious thoughts 
to perceive the shrinking form of Elizabeth. She, when 
he had gone from sight, entered the chamber where stood 
the pilgrim. 

“I have heard thy conversation,” she said, “and I am 
ready to give my life for my father’s welfare. Tell me 
what I must do and I will slay me with mine own 
hand.” 

165 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

With covetous glance the pilgrim advanced and strove to 
take her hand, but she shrank back in loathing. 

“Touch me not,” she said, shuddering. 

A look of malice overspread the pilgrim’s averted 
face. 

“ Come hither at midnight, and at sunrise thy father will 
be rich and honoured,” he said. 

“Wilt thou swear it on the cross? ” 

“ I swear it,” he returned, drawing a little crucifix from 
his bosom, and speaking in solemn tones. 

“ Very well, I promise.” And with that she withdrew. 
When she had gone the alchemist pressed a spring in the 
crucifix, when a dagger fell out. 

“Thou hast served me well,” he said, chuckling. Then, 
replacing the crucifix in his breast, he entered the adjoining 
room, prised up a stone from the floor, and drew forth a 
leathern bag full of gold. This, then, was the crucible 
into which the Archbishop’s pieces had gone. “ I have 
found the secret of making gold,” pursued the pilgrim. 
“To-morrow my wealth and I will be far away in safety. 
The fools, to seek gold in a crucible! ” 

Meanwhile preparations were afoot for the reception of 
the Archbishop. Elizabeth, full of grief and determina¬ 
tion, supervised the work of the serving-maids, while her 
father anxiously wondered how he should account to his 
master for the stolen pieces of gold. 

The Archbishop was loudly hailed on his arrival. He 
greeted his Treasurer kindly and asked after the pretty 
Elizabeth. When her father presented her he in turn 
introduced her to his guests, and many a glance of ad¬ 
miration was directed at the gentle maid. One young 
knight, in particular, was so smitten with her charms that 
he was dumb the whole evening. 

166 


Stolzenfels: The Alchemist 

When Elizabeth retired to her chamber her father bade 
her good-night. Hope had again arisen in his breast. 
“To-morrow,” he said, “my troubles will be over.’’ 
Elizabeth sighed. 

At length the hour of midnight arrived. Taking a lamp, 
the girl crossed the courtyard to where the alchemist 
awaited her coming. She was not unseen, however; the 
young knight had been watching her window, and he 
observed her pass through the courtyard with surprise. 
Fearing he knew not what harm to the maid he loved, he 
followed her to the pilgrim’s apartment, and there watched 
her through a crack in the door. 

The alchemist was bending over a crucible when Elizabeth 
entered. 

“Ah, thou hast come,” he said. “ I hope thou art pre¬ 
pared to do as I bid thee ? If that is so, I will restore the 
gold to thy father—his own gold and his master’s. If 
thou art willing to sacrifice thine honour, thy father’s 
honour shall be restored; if thy life, he shall have the 
money he needs.” 

“ Away, wretch 1 ” cried Elizabeth indignantly. “ I will 
give my life for my father, but I will not suffer insult.” 
With a shrug of his shoulders the alchemist turned to his 
crucible. 

“ As thou wilt,” he said. “ Prepare for the sacrifice.” 
Suddenly the kneeling maid caught up the alchemist’s 
dagger and would have plunged it into her heart; but ere 
she could carry out her purpose the knight burst open 
the door, rushed into the room, and seized the weapon. 
Elizabeth, overcome with the relief which his opportune 
arrival afforded her, fainted in his arms. 

While the young man frantically sought means to restore 
her the pilgrim seized the opportunity to escape, and 

167 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

when the maid came to herself it was to find the wretch 
gone and herself supported by a handsome young knight, 
who was pouring impassioned speeches into her ear. His 
love and tenderness awakened an answering emotion in 
her heart, and that very night they were betrothed. 

When the maiden’s father was apprised of her recent peril 
he, too, was grateful to her deliverer, and yet more grateful 
when his future son-in-law pressed him to make use of his 
ample fortune. 

The pilgrim was found drowned in the Rhine, and the 
bag of gold, which he had carried away in his belt, was 
handed over to the Archbishop, to whom the Treasurer 
confessed all. 

And the good Archbishop, by way of confirming his 
forgiveness, gave a handsome present to Elizabeth on her 
marriage with the knight. 

The Legend of Boppard 

Maidens had curious ways of revenging themselves on 
unfaithful lovers in medieval times, as the following 
legend of Boppard would show. 

Toward the end of the twelfth century there dwelt in 
Boppard a knight named Sir Conrad Bayer, brave, 
generous, and a good comrade, but not without his faults, 
as will be seen hereafter. 

At that time many brave knights and nobles were fighting 
in the Third Crusade under Frederick the First and Richard 
Cceur-de-Lion ; but Sir Conrad still remained at Boppard. 
He gave out that the reason for his remaining at home 
was to protect his stronghold against a horde of robbers 
who infested the neighbourhood. But there were those 
who ascribed his reluctance to depart to another cause. 
In a neighbouring fortress there lived a beautiful maiden, 

168 


The Legend of Boppard 

Maria by name, who received a great deal of attention 
from Sir Conrad. So frequent were his visits to her 
home that rumour had it that the fair lady had won his 
heart. This indeed was the case, and she in return had 
given her love unreservedly into his keeping. But as her 
passion grew stronger his seemed to cool, and at length 
he began to make preparations to join the wars in 
Palestine, leaving the lady to lament his changed 
demeanour. In vain she pleaded, in vain she sent 
letters to him. At last he intimated plainly that he 
loved her no longer. He did not intend to marry, he 
said, adding cruelly that if he did she should not be the 
bride of his choice. The lady was completely crushed by 
the blow. Her affection for Sir Conrad perished, and in its 
place arose a desire to be revenged on the unfaithful knight. 
The fickle lover had completed his arrangements for his 
journey to the Holy Land, and all was ready for his 
departure. As he rode gaily down from his castle to 
where his men-at-arms waited on the shores of the 
Rhine, he was suddenly confronted by an armed knight, 
who reined in his steed and bade Sir Conrad halt. 

“ Hold, Sir Conrad Bayer,” he cried. “Thou goest not 
hence till thou hast answered for thy misdeeds—thou false 
knight—thou traitor ! ” 

Sir Conrad listened in astonishment. A moment later his 
attendants had surrounded the bold youth, and would have 
slain him had not Sir Conrad interfered. 

“ Back ! ” he said. “ Let me face this braggart myself. 
Who art thou ? ” he added, addressing the young knight 
who had thus boldly challenged him. 

“ One who would have thy life! ” was the fierce reply. 
“Why should I slay thee, bold youth?” said Conrad, 
amused. 


169 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

“ I am the brother of Maria, whom thou hast betrayed,” 
was the response. “ I have come hither from Palestine 
to seek thy life. Have at thee, traitor! ” 

Conrad, somewhat sobered, and unwilling to do battle 
with such a boy, asked for further proof of his identity. 
The young knight thereupon displayed, blazoned on his 
shield, the arms of his house—a golden lion on an azure 
field. 

Sir Conrad had no longer excuse for refusing to do battle 
with the youth, so with a muttered “ Thy blood be upon 
thy head! ” he laid his lance in rest and drew back a few 
paces. The stranger did likewise; then they rushed 
toward each other, and such was the force of their impact 
that both were unhorsed. Drawing their swords—for 
neither was injured—the knights resumed the conflict 
on foot. Conrad felt disgraced at having been unhorsed 
by a mere youth, and he was now further incensed by 
receiving a deep wound in his arm. Henceforth he fought 
in good earnest, showering blows on his antagonist, who 
fell at last, mortally wounded. 

In obedience to the rules of chivalry, Sir Conrad hastened 
to assist his vanquished foe. What was his surprise, his 
horror, when, on raising the head and unlacing the helm 
of the knight, he found that his adversary was none other 
than Maria! 

“ Conrad,” she said in failing tones, “ I also am to blame. 
Without thy love life was nothing to me, and I resolved 
to die by thy hand. Forget my folly, remember only that I 
loved thee. Farewell! ” And with these words she expired. 
Conrad flung himself down by her side, convulsed with 
grief and remorse. From that hour a change came over 
him. Ere he set out to the Holy Land he caused the body 
of Maria to be interred on the summit of the Kreuzberg, 
170 


Liebenstein & Sterrenberg 

and bestowed the greater part of his estates on a pious 
brotherhood, enjoining them to raise a nunnery over the 
tomb. Thus was the convent of Marienberg founded, and 
in time it came to be one of the richest and most cele¬ 
brated on the Rhine. 

Arrived in Palestine, Conrad became a Knight-Templar, 
fighting bravely and utterly oblivious to all danger. It 
was not until Acre had been won, however, that death 
met him. An arrow dispatched by an unknown hand 
found its quarry as he was walking the ramparts at night 
meditating on the lady he had slain- and whose death 
had restored her to a place in his affections. 

Liebenstein and Sterrenberg 

Near the famous monastery of Bornhofen, and not far from 
the town of Camp, supposed to be an ancient Roman site, 
are the celebrated castles of Liebenstein and Sterrenberg, 
called 4 the Brothers/ perhaps because of their contiguity 
to each other rather than through the legend connected 
with the name. History is practically silent concerning 
these towers, which occupy two steep crags united by 
a small isthmus which has partially been cut through. 
Sterrenberg lies nearest the north, Liebenstein to the south. 
A wooden bridge leads from one to the other, but a high 
wall called the Schildmauer was in the old days reared 
between them, obviously with the intention of cutting off 
communication. The legend has undoubtedly become 
sophisticated by literary influences, and was so altered by 
one Joseph Kugelgen as to change its purport entirely. 
It is the modern version of the legend we give here, in 
contradistinction to that given in the chapter on the 
Folklore and Literature of the Rhine (see pp. 84 et seq.). 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

The Brothers 

Heinrich and Conrad were the sons of Kurt, afbrave 
knight who had retired from the wars, and now dwelt 
in his ancestral castle Liebenstein. The brothers were 
alike in all matters pertaining to arms and chivalry. 
But otherwise they differed, for Heinrich, the elder, was 
quiet and more given to the arts of peace; whereas 
Conrad was gay, and inclined to like fighting for fighting’s 
sake. 

Brought up along with them was Hildegarde, a relative 
and an orphan, whom the brothers believed to be their 
sister. On reaching manhood, however, their father told 
them the truth concerning her, expressing the wish that 
one of them should marry the maiden. 

Nothing loath, both brothers wooed Hildegarde, but Con¬ 
rad’s ardent, impulsive nature triumphed over Heinrich’s 
reserved and more steadfast affection. In due course 
preparations were made for the marriage festival, and a 
new castle, Sterrenberg, was raised for the young couple 
adjacent to Liebenstein. Heinrich found it hard to be a 
constant witness of his brother’s happiness, so he set out 
for the Holy Land. Soon after his departure the old 
knight became ill, and died on the day that the new castle 
was completed. This delayed the marriage for a year, 
and as the months passed Conrad became associated 
with loose companions, and his love for Hildegarde 
weakened. 

Meantime news came that Heinrich had performed mar¬ 
vellous deeds in the Holy Land, and the tidings inflamed 
Conrad’s zeal. He, too, determined to join the Crusades, 
and was soon on the way to Palestine. 

However, he did not, like his brother, gain renown—for 
172 


The Brothers 

he had not the same incentive to reckless bravery—and 
he soon returned. He was again to prove himself more 
successful in love than in war, for at Constantinople, 
having fallen passionately in love with a beautiful Greek 
lady, he married her. 

One day Hildegarde was sitting sorrowful in her chamber, 
when she beheld travellers with baggage moving into the 
empty Sterrenberg. Greatly astonished, she sent her waiting- 
maid to make inquiries, and learned to her sorrow that it 
was the returning Conrad, who came bringing with him a 
Greek wife. Conrad avoided Liebenstein, and Sterrenberg 
became gay with feasting and music. 

Late one evening a knight demanded lodging at Lieben¬ 
stein and was admitted. The stranger was Heinrich, 
who, hearing about his brother’s shameful marriage, had 
returned to the grief-stricken Hildegarde. 

After he had rested Heinrich sent a message to his 
brother reproaching him with unknightly behaviour, and 
challenging him to mortal combat. The challenge was 
accepted and the combatants met on the passage separating 
the two castles. But as they faced each other, sword in 
hand, a veiled female figure stepped between them and 
bade them desist. 

It was Hildegarde, who had recognized Heinrich and learned 
his intention. In impassioned tones she urged the young 
men not to be guilty of the folly of shedding each other’s 
blood in such a cause, and declared that it was her firm 
intention to spend her remaining days in a convent. The 
brothers submitted themselves to her persuasion and 
became reconciled. Some time afterward Conrad’s wife 
proved her unworthiness by eloping with a young knight, 
thus killing her husband’s love for her, and at the same 
time opening his eyes to his own base conduct. Bitterly 

173 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

now did he reproach himself for his unfaithfulness to 
Hildegarde, who, alas ! was now lost to him for ever. 
Hildegarde remained faithful to her vows, and Heinrich 
and Conrad lived together till at last death separated 
them. 

5 /. Goar 

Near the town of St. Goar, at the foot of the Rheinfels, 
there stands a little cell, once the habitation of a pious 
hermit known as St. Goar, and many are the local tradi¬ 
tions which tell of the miracles wrought by this good 
man, and the marvellous virtues retained by his shrine 
after his death. He settled on Rhenish shores, we are 
told, about the middle of the sixth century, and thence¬ 
forward devoted his life to the service of the rude people 
among whom his lot was cast. His first care was to 

instruct them in the Christian faith, but he was also 

mindful of their welfare in temporal matters, and gave 
his services freely to the sick and sorrowful, so that ere 
long he came to be regarded as a saint. When he was 
not employed in prayer and ministrations he watched the 
currents of the Rhine, and was ever willing to lend his aid 
to distressed mariners who had been caught by the Sand 
Gewirry a dangerous eddy which was too often the death 
of unwary boatmen in these parts. 

Thus he spent an active and cheerful life, far from the 

envy and strife of the world, for which he had no taste 

whatever. Nevertheless the fame of his good deeds had 
reached the high places of the earth. Sigebert, who at 
that time held his court at Andernach, heard of the piety 
and noble life of the hermit, and invited him to his palace 
St. Goar accepted the invitation—or, rather, obeyed the 
command—and made his way to Andernach. He was 
174 


St. Goar 

well received by the monarch, whom his genuine holiness 
and single-mindedness greatly impressed. But pure as he 
was, the worthy Goar was not destined to escape calumny. 
There were at the court of Sigebert other ecclesiastics of 
a less exalted type, and these were filled with envy and 
indignation when they beheld the favours bestowed upon 
the erstwhile recluse. Foremost among his persecutors 
was the Archbishop of Treves, and with him Sigebert 
dealt in summary fashion, depriving him of his arch¬ 
bishopric and offering the see to St. Goar. The latter, 
however, was sick of the perpetual intrigues and squab- 
blings of the court, and longed to return to the shelter of 
his mossy cell and the sincere friendship of the poor 
fishermen among whom his mission lay. So he refused 
the proffered dignity and informed the monarch of his 
desire to return home. As he stood in the hall of the 
palace preparing to take his leave, he threw his cloak 
over a sunbeam, and, strange to say, the garment was 
suspended as though the shaft of light were solid. This, 
we are told, was not a mere piece of bravado, but was 
done to show that the saint’s action in refusing the see 
was prompted by divine inspiration. 

When St. Goar died Sigebert caused a chapel to be erected 
over his grave, choosing from among his disciples two 
worthy monks to officiate. Other hermits took up their 
abode near the spot, and all were subsequently gathered 
together in a monastery. The grave of the solitary 
became a favourite shrine, to which pilgrims travelled 
from all quarters, and St. Goar became the patron saint 
of hospitality, not so much personally as through the 
monastery of which he was the patron, and one of whose 
rules was that no stranger should be denied hospitality for 
a certain period. 


i7S 


i 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

A goodly number of stories are told of his somewhat 
drastic treatment of those who passed by his shrine with¬ 
out bringing an offering—stories which may be traced to 
the monks who dwelt there, and who reaped the benefit of 
these offerings. 

Charlemagne at the Shrine of St. Goar 
Here is one of those tales concerning the great Karl. On 
one occasion while he was travelling from Ingelheim to 
Aix-la-Chapelle, by way of Coblentz, he passed the shrine 
of St. Goar without so much as a single thought. Nor 
did those who accompanied him give the saint more 
attention. It was the height of summer, everything was 
bright and beautiful, and as the Emperor’s flotilla drifted 
lazily down the Rhine the sound of laughter and light 
jesting could be heard. 

No sooner had the Emperor and his courtiers passed 
St. Goar, however, than the smiling sky became overcast, 
heavy clouds gathered, and the distant sound of thunder 
was heard. A moment more and they were in the midst 
of a raging storm; water surged and boiled all around, and 
darkness fell so thickly that scarce could one see another’s 
face. Panic reigned supreme where all had been gaiety 
and merriment. 

In vain the sailors strove to reach the shore; in vain the 
ladies shrieked and the Emperor and his nobles lent their 
aid to the seamen. All the exertions of the sailors would 
not suffice to move the vessels one foot nearer the shore. 
At length an old boatman who had spent the greater part 
of a lifetime on the Rhine approached the Emperor and 
addressed him thus: 

“Sire, our labours are useless. We have offended God 
and St. Goar.” 

176 


The Reconciliation 

The words were repeated by the Emperor’s panic-stricken 
train, who now saw that the storm was of miraculous origin. 
“ Let us go ashore,” said Charlemagne in an awed voice. 
“ In the name of God and St. Goar, let us go ashore. We 
will pray at the shrine of the saint that he may help us 
make peace with Heaven.” 

Scarcely had he uttered the words ere the sky began to 
clear, the boiling water subsided to its former glassy 
smoothness, and the storm was over. The illustrious 
company landed and sought the shrine of the holy man, 
where they spent the rest of the day in prayer. 

Ere they departed on the following morning Charlemagne 
and his court presented rich offerings at the shrine, and 
the Emperor afterward endowed the monastery with lands 
of great extent, by which means it is to be hoped that he 
succeeded in propitiating the jealous saint. 

The Reconciliation 

One more tale of St. Goar may be added, dealing this 
time with Charlemagne’s sons, Pepin and Karloman. These 
two, brave knights both, had had a serious quarrel over 
the sovereignty of their father’s vast Empire. Gradually 
the breach widened to a deadly feud, and the brothers, 
once the best of friends, became the bitterest enemies. 

In 806 Charlemagne held an Imperial Diet at Thionville, 
and thither he summoned his three sons, Karloman, 
Pepin, and Ludwig, intending to divide the Empire, by 
testament, among them. Karloman was at that time in 
Germany, and Pepin in Italy, where, with the aid of his 
sword, he had won for himself broad lands. In 
order to reach Thionville both were obliged to take the 
same path—that is, the Rhine, the broad waterway of 
their father’s dominions. Pepin was the first to come, 
m 177 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

and as he sailed up the river with his train he caught 
sight of the shrine of St. Goar, and bethought him that 
there he and his brother had last met as friends. As he 
pondered on the strange fate that had made enemies 
of them, once so full of kindness toward each other, he 
felt curiously moved, and decided to put ashore and kneel 
by the shrine of the saint. 

Ere long Karloman and his train moved up the Rhine, 
and this prince also, when he beheld the shrine of St. Goar, 
was touched with a feeling of tenderness for his absent 
brother. Recollections of the time when Pepin and he 
had been inseparable surged over him, and he too stepped 
ashore and made his way through the wood to the sacred 
spot. 

Meanwhile Pepin still knelt before the shrine, and great 
indeed was Karloman’s astonishment when he beheld his 
brother. But when he heard Pepin pray aloud that they 
might be reconciled his joy and surprise knew no bounds. 
All armed as he was, he strode up to his kneeling brother 
and r embraced him with tears, entreating his forgiveness for 
past harshnesses. When Pepin raised the prince’s visor 
and beheld the beloved features of Karloman, his 
happiness was complete. Together the brothers made for 
their ships; not, however, till they had left valuable gifts 
at the shrine of the saint whose good offices had brought 
about their reconciliation. Together they proceeded to 
the court of Charlemagne, who partitioned his Empire 
between his three sons, making each a regent of his 
portion during his father’s lifetime. 

From that time onward the brothers were fast friends. 
Karloman and Pepin, however, had not long to live, for 
the former died in 810 and the latter in the following 
year. 

178 


Gutenfels 


Gutenfels , a Romance 

A very charming story, and one entirely lacking in the 
element of gloom and tragedy which is so marked a 
feature of most Rhenish tales, is that which tradition 
assigns to the castle of Gutenfels. Its ancient name of 
Caub, or Chaube, still clings to the town above which it 
towers majestically. 

In the thirteenth century Caub was the habitation of Sir 
Philip of Falkenstein and his sister Guta, the latter justly 
acclaimed as the most beautiful woman in Germany. She 
was reputed as proud as she was beautiful, and of the 
many suitors who flocked to Caub to seek her hand in 
marriage none could win from her a word of encourage¬ 
ment or even a tender glance. 

On one occasion she and her brother were present at a 
great tourney held at Cologne, where the flower of knightly 
chivalry and maidenly beauty were gathered in a brilliant 
assembly. Many an ardent glance was directed to the fair 
maid of Caub, but she, accustomed to such homage, was 
not moved thereby from her wonted composure. 

At length a commotion passed through the assembly. 
A knight had entered the lists whose name was not an¬ 
nounced by the herald. It was whispered that his identity 
was known only to the Archbishop, whose guest he was. 
Of fine stature and handsome features, clad in splendid 
armour and mounted on a richly caparisoned steed, he 
attracted not a little attention, especially from the feminine 
portion of the assemblage. But for none of the high-born 
ladies had he eyes, save for Guta, to whom his glance was 
ever and anon directed, as though he looked to her to 
bring him victory. The blushing looks of Guta showed 
that she was not indifferent to the gallantry of the noble 

179 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

stranger, and, truly, in her heart she wished him well. 
With clasped hands she watched the combatants couch 
their lances and charge. Ah! victory had fallen to 
the unknown knight. Soon it became evident that the 
mysterious stranger was to carry off the prize of the 
tourney, for there was none to match him in skill and 
prowess. As he rode past the place where Guta sat he 
lowered his lance, and she, in her pleasure and confusion 
at this mark of especial courtesy, dropped her glove, 
which the knight instantly picked up, desiring to be 
allowed to keep it as a guerdon. 

At the grand ball which followed the tourney the victor 
remained all the evening at Guta’s side, and would dance 
with no other maiden. Young Falkenstein, pleased with 
the homage paid to his sister by the distinguished stranger, 
invited him to visit them at Caub, an invitation which the 
gentle Guta seconded, and which the mysterious knight 
accepted with alacrity. 

True to his promise, ere a week had elapsed he arrived at 
Caub, accompanied by two attendants. His visit covered 
three days, during which time his host and hostess did all 
in their power to make his stay a pleasant one. Ere he took 
his departure he sought out Guta and made known his love. 
The lady acknowledged that his affection was returned. 

“ Dearest Guta,” said the knight, “ I may not yet reveal 
to thee my name, but if thou wilt await my coming, in 
three months I shall return to claim my bride, and thou 
shalt know all.” 

“ I will be true to thee,” exclaimed Guta passionately. 
“ Though a king should woo me, I will be true to thee.” 
And with that assurance from his betrothed the knight 
rode away. 

Three months came and went, and still Guta heard 
180 


Gutenfels 

nothing of her absent lover. She grew paler and sadder as 
time advanced, not because she doubted the honour of her 
knight, but because she feared he had been slain in battle. 
It was indeed a time of wars and dissensions. On the 
death of Conrad IV several claimants to the imperial 
throne of Germany made their appearance, of whom the 
principal were Adolph, Duke of Holland, Richard, Earl 
of Cornwall, brother to the English king Henry III, and 
Alfonso X, King of Castile. Of these three the most 
popular was Richard of Cornwall, who was finally chosen 
by the Electors, more on account of his knightly qualities 
than because of his fabulous wealth. Among his most 
ardent followers was Philip of Falkenstein, who was 
naturally much elated at his master’s success. Now, 
however, the conflict was over, and Philip had returned 
to Caub. 

One morning, about six months after the departure of 
Guta’s lover, a gay cavalcade appeared at the gates 
of Caub, and a herald demanded admission for Richard, 
Emperor of Germany. Philip himself, scarcely concealing 
his joy and pride at the honour done him by his sovereign, 
ran out to greet him, and the castle was full of stir and 
bustle. The Emperor praised Philip heartily for his part 
in the recent wars, yet he seemed absent and uneasy. 

“ Sir Philip,” he said at length, “ I have come hither to beg 
the hand of thy fair sister; why is she not with us ? ” 
Falkenstein was filled with amazement. 

“ Sire,” he stammered, “ I fear me thou wilt find my sister 
an unwilling bride. She has refused many nobles of high 
estate, and I doubt whether even a crown will tempt her. 
However, I will plead with her for thy sake.” 

He left the room to seek Guta’s bower, but soon returned 
with dejected mien. 

181 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

“ It is as I thought, sire,” he said. “ She will not be 
moved. Methinks some heedless knight hath stolen her 
heart, for she hath grown pale and drooping as a gathered 
blossom.” 

Richard raised his visor. 

“ Knowest thou me, sir knight ?” he said. 

“ Thou art—the knight of the tourney,” cried Philip in 
amaze. 

“ The same,” answered Richard, smiling. “ And I am 
the knight who has won thy fair sister’s heart. We 
plighted our troth after the tourney of Cologne. State 
affairs of the gravest import have kept me from her side, 
where I would fain have been these six months past. 
Take this token”—drawing from his breast the glove 
Guta had given him—“ and tell her that a poor knight in 
Richard’s train sends her this.” 

In a little while Philip returned with his sister. The 
maiden looked pale and agitated, but when she beheld 
Richard she rushed to him and was clasped in his arms. 

“ My own Guta,” he whispered fondly. “ And wouldst 
thou refuse an emperor to marry me ? ” 

“ Yea, truly,” answered the maid, “ a hundred emperors. 
I feared thou hadst forsaken me altogether,” she added 
naively. 

Richard laughed. 

“Would I be a worthy Emperor an I did not keep my 
troth with such as thou? ” he asked. 

“ The Emperor—thou ? ” cried Guta, starting back. 

“Yea, the Emperor, and none other,” said her brother 
reverently. And once more Guta hid her face on Richard’s 
breast. 

Within a week they were married, and Guta accompanied 
her husband to the court as Empress of Germany. 

182 



She rushed to him and was clasped in his arms 182 

Hiram Ellis 









































The Story of Schonburg 

To the castle where his bride had passed her maidenhood 
Richard gave the name of Gutenfels—‘ Rock of Guta ’— 
which name it has retained to this day. 

The Story of Schonburg 

The castle of Schonburg, not far from the town of Bacha- 
rach, is now in ruins, but was once a place of extraordinary 
fame, for here dwelt at one time seven sisters of transcen¬ 
dent beauty, who were courted the more assiduously 
because their father, the Graf von Schonburg, was reputed 
a man of great wealth. This wealth was no myth, but 
an actuality, and in truth it had been mainly acquired in 
predatory forays; but the nobles of Rhineland recked 
little of this, and scores of them flitted around and pressed 
their suit on the young ladies. None of these, however, 
felt inclined toward marriage just yet, each^ vowing its 
yoke too galling; and so the gallants came in vain to the 
castle, their respective addresses being invariably dallied 
with and then dismissed. Suitor after suitor retired in 
despair, pondering on the strange ways of womankind ; 
but one evening a large party of noblemen chanced to be 
assembled at the schloss, and putting their heads together, 
they decided to press matters to a conclusion. They 
agreed that all of them, in gorgeous raiment, should 
gather in the banqueting : hall of the castle; the seven 
sisters should be summoned and called upon in peremptory 
fashion to have done with silken dalliance and to end 
matters by selecting seven husbands from among them. 
The young ladies received the summons with some amuse¬ 
ment, all of them being blessed with the saving grace of 
humour, and they bade the knight who had brought the 
message return to his fellows and tell them that the 
suggested interview would be held. “ Only give us time,” 

183 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

said the sisters, “for the donning of our most becoming 
dresses.” 

So now the band of suitors mustered, and a brave display 
they made, each of them thinking himself more handsome 
and gorgeous than his neighbours and boasting that he 
would be among the chosen seven. But as time sped on 
and the ladies still tarried, the young men began to grow 
anxious; many of them spoke aloud of female vanity, and 
made derisive comments on the coiffing and the like, 
which they imagined was the cause of the delay; even¬ 
tually one of their number, tired of strutting before a 
mirror, happened to go to look out of the window toward 
the Rhine. Suddenly he uttered a loud imprecation, 
and his companions, thronging to the window, were all 
fiercely incensed at the sight which greeted their eyes. 
For the famous seven sisters were perpetrating something 
of a practical joke; they were leaving the castle in a boat, 
and on perceiving the men’s faces at the windows they 
gave vent to a loud laugh of disdain. Hardly had the 
angry suitors realized that they were the butt of the ladies’ 
ridicule when they were seized with consternation. For 
one of the sisters, in the attempt to shake her fist at the 
men she affected to despise, tried to stand up on one of 
the thwarts of the boat, which, being a light craft, was 
upset at once. The girls’ taunts were now changed to 
loud cries for help, none being able to swim ; but ere 
another boat could be launched the Rhine had claimed 
its prey, and the perfidious damsels were drowned in the 
swift tide. 

But their memory was not destined to be erased from the 
traditions of the locality. Near the place where the 
tragedy occurred there are seven rocks, visible only on 
rare occasions when the river is very low, and till lately 
184 


The Legend of Pfalz 

it was a popular superstition that these rocks were placed 
there by Providence, anxious to impart a moral to young 
women addicted to coquetry and practical jests. To this 
day many boatmen on the Rhine regard these rocks with 
awe, and it is told that now and then seven wraiths are 
to be seen there; it is even asserted that sometimes these 
apparitions sing in strains as delectable as those of the 
Lorelei herself. 

The Legend of Pfalz 

Musing on the legendary lore of the Rhine, we cannot but 
be struck by the sadness pervading these stories, and we 
are inclined to believe that every one of them culminates 
in tragedy. But there are a few exceptions to this rule, and 
among them is a tale associated with the island of Pfalz, 
near Bacharach, which concludes in fairly happy fashion, 
if in the main concerned with suffering. 

This island of Pfalz still contains the ruins of a castle, 
known as Pfalzgrafenstein. It belonged in medieval days 
to the Palatine Princes, and at the time our story opens 
one of these, named Hermann, having suspected his wife, 
the Princess Guba, of infidelity, had lately caused her to 
be incarcerated within it. Its governor, Count von Roth, 
was charged to watch the prisoner’s movements carefully; 
but, being sure she was* innocent, his measures with her 
were generally lenient, while his countess soon formed a 
deep friendship for the Princess. Thus it seemed to Guba 
that her captivity was not destined to be so terrible as she 
had anticipated, but she was soon disillusioned, as will 
appear presently. It should be explained that as yet the 
Princess had borne no children to her husband, whose 
heir-apparent was consequently his brother Ludwig; and 
this person naturally tried to prevent a reconciliation 

185 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

between the Palatine Prince and his wife, for should they be 
united again, Ludwig’s hope to succeed his brother might 
be frustrated. So he was a frequent visitor to the Pfalz- 
grafenstein, constantly telling von Roth that he allowed 
the Princess too much liberty. Worse still, Ludwig some¬ 
times remained at the island castle for a long time, and at 
these periods the prisoner underwent constant ill-treatment, 
which the Governor was powerless to alleviate. 

The people of the neighbourhood felt kindly toward Guba, 
but their sympathy was of little avail; and at length during 
one of Ludwig’s visits to Pfalzgrafenstein it seemed as 
though he was about to triumph and effect a final separa¬ 
tion between the Princess and Hermann. For it transpired 
one evening that Guba was not within the castle. A hue 
and cry was instantly raised, and the island was searched 
by Ludwig and von Roth. “ I wager,” said Ludwig, 
“ that at this very moment Guba is with her paramour. 
Let my brother the Prince hear of this, and your life will 
answer for it. Often have I urged you to be stricter; you 
see now the result of your leniency.” 

Von Roth protested that the Princess was taking the 
air alone; but while they argued the pair espied Guba, 
and it was as Ludwig had said—she was attended by a 
man. 

“ The bird is snared,” shouted Ludwig; and as he and 
von Roth ran toward the offending couple they separated 
instantly, the man making for a boat moored hard by. 
But ere he could reach it he was caught by his pursuers, 
and recognized for a certain young gallant of the district. 
He was dragged to the castle, where after a brief trial he 
was condemned to be hanged. He blanched on hearing 
the sentence, but faced his fate manfully, and when the 
rope was about his neck he declared loudly that Guba 
186 


The Legend of Pfalz 

had always discouraged his addresses and was innocent of 
the sin wherewith she was charged. 

Guba’s movements thenceforth were watched more strictly 
for a while, yet she seemed to grow more cheerful, while 
one day she even asserted that she would soon be recon¬ 
ciled to her husband, from whom she had now been 
estranged for six months. In short, she announced that 
she was soon to be a mother; while she was confident that 
the child would resemble the Palatine Prince, and that the 
latter’s delight on finding himself a father would result in 
the ending of all her troubles. The Governor and his lady 
were both doubtful as to the parentage of the child, re¬ 
membering the recent circumstances which had seemed to 
cast some shadow upon the Princess herself; yet they held 
their peace, awaiting until in due course the Princess was 
delivered of a boy. But, alack ! the child bore no resem¬ 
blance to Hermann; and so von Roth and his wife, meaning 
to be kind, enjoined silence and sent the child away—all 
of which was the more easily accomplished as the spiteful 
Ludwig chanced to be far distant at the time. 

At first the mother was broken-hearted, but the Governor 
and his wife comforted her by saying that the child was 
no farther off than a castle on the opposite banks of the 
Rhine. Here, they assured her, he would be well nurtured; 
moreover, they had arranged that, so long as her son was 
alive and thriving, the fact was to be signified to her by the 
display of a small white flag on the battlements of his 
lodging. And so, day after day, the anxious mother paced 
her island prison, looking constantly toward the signal 
which meant so much to her. 

Many years went by in this fashion, and in course of time 
Hermann was gathered to his fathers, and Ludwig ascended 
the Palatine throne. But scarcely was his rule begun ere it 

i8 7 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

was noised abroad that he was a usurper, for a young 
man appeared who claimed to be the son of Hermann, and 
therefore the rightful heir. Now, most of the people 
detested Ludwig, and when they marked the claimant’s 
resemblance to the deceased Prince a number of them 
banded themselves together to set him upon the throne. 
A fierce civil war ensued, many of the nobles forsaking 
Ludwig for his rival, who, like the late Prince, bore the 
name of Hermann; and though at first it seemed doubtful 
which party was to triumph, eventually Ludwig was worsted, 
and was hanged for his perfidy. The tidings spread 
throughout the Rhineland, and one day a body of men-at- 
arms came to Pfalzgrafenstein and informed von Roth 
that his prisoner was to be freed at once and was to repair 
to the Palatine court, there to take up her rightful position 
as Queen-Dowager. Guba was amazed on hearing this 
news, for she had long since ceased to hope that her 
present mode of life would be altered, and asking to be 
presented to the chief messenger that she might question 
him, she suddenly experienced a yet greater surprise. . . . 
Yes! her son had come in person to liberate her; and 
von Roth and his wife, as they witnessed the glad union, 
were convinced at last of Guba’s innocence, for the young 
man who clasped her to his bosom had changed wondrously 
since his childhood, and was now indeed the living image 
of his father. For some minutes the mother wept with 
joy, but when her son bade her make ready for instant 
departure she replied that she had lost all desire for the 
stately life of a court. Pfalzgrafenstein, she declared, had 
become truly a part of her life, so here she would end her 
days. She had not long to live, she added, and what 
greater pleasure could she have than the knowledge that 
her son was alive and well, and was ruling his people wisely ? 
188 


A Legend of Fiirstenberg 

And so Guba remained at the island, a prison no longer; 
and daily she paced by the swirling stream, often gazing 
toward the castle where her son had been nurtured, and 
meditating on the time when she was wont to look there 
for the white flag which meant so much to her anxious 
heart. 

A Legend of Fiirstenberg 

High above the Rhine tower the ruins of Fiirstenberg, 
and more than one legend clings to the ancient pile, linking 
it with stirring medieval times. 

Perhaps the most popular of these traditions is that which 
tells of the Phantom Mother of Fiirstenberg, a tale full of 
pathos and tragedy. 

In the thirteenth century there dwelt in the castle a noble¬ 
man, Franz von Flirst by name, who, after a wild and 
licentious youth, settled down to a more sober and serious 
manhood. His friends, surprised at the change which 
had taken place in him, and anxious that this new mode 
of life should be maintained, urged him to take a virtuous 
maiden to wife. Such a bride as they desired for him was 
found in Kunigunda von Florsheim, a maiden who was as 
beautiful as she was high-born. 

For a time after their marriage all went well, and Franz 
and his young wife seemed quite happy. Moreover, in 
time a son was born to them, of whom his father seemed 
to be very proud. The Baron’s reformation, said his 
friends, was complete. 

One evening there came to Kunigunda a young lady friend. 
The girl, whose name was Amina, was the daughter of a 
robber-baron who dwelt in a neighbouring castle. But 
his predatory acts had at last forced him to flee for his 
life, and no one knew whither he had gone. His house- 

189 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

hold was broken up, and Amina, finding herself without a 
home, had now repaired to Ftirstenberg to seek refuge. 
Kunigunda, ever willing to aid those in distress, extended 
a hearty welcome to the damsel, and Amina was hence¬ 
forth an inmate of the schloss. 

Now, though Amina was fully as lovely in face and form 
as her young hostess, she yet lacked the moral beauty of 
Kunigunda. Of a subtle and crafty disposition, she showed 
the gratitude of the serpent by stinging the hand extended 
to help her; in a word, she set herself to win the unlawful 
affections of the Lord of Ftirstenberg. He, weak creature 
as he was, allowed the latent baseness of his nature to be 
stirred by her youth and beauty. He listened when she 
whispered that Kunigunda had grown cold toward him; 
at her suggestion he interpreted his wife’s modest de¬ 
meanour as indifference, and already he began to feel the 
yoke of matrimony heavy upon him. 

Poor Kunigunda was in despair when she realized that 
her husband had transferred his affections; but what was 
worse, she learned that the pair were plotting against her 
life. At length their cruel scheming succeeded, and one 
morning Kunigunda was found dead in her bed. Franz 
made it known that she had been stifled by a fit of 
coughing, and her remains were hastily conveyed to the 
family vault. Within a week the false Amina was the 
bride of the Baron von FiArstenberg. 

Little Hugo, the son of Kunigunda, was to suffer much at 
the hands of his stepmother and her dependents. The 
new mistress of the Schloss Ftirstenberg hated the child 
as she had hated his mother, and Hugo was given into 
the charge of an ill-natured old nurse, who frequently beat 
him in the night because he awakened her with his cries. 
One night the old hag was roused from her sleep by a 
190 


A Legend of Fiirstenberg 

strange sound, the sound of a cradle being rocked. She 
imagined herself dreaming. Who would come to this 
distant tower to rock the little Hugo? Not Amina, of 
that she was sure! Again the sound was heard, unmis¬ 
takably the creaking of the cradle. Drawing aside her 
bed-curtains, the crone beheld a strange sight. Over the 
cradle a woman was bending, clad in long, white garments, 
and singing a low lullaby, and as she raised her pale face, 
behold! it was that of the dead Kunigunda. The nurse 
could neither shriek nor faint; as though fascinated, she 
watched the wraith nursing her child, until at cockcrow 
Kunigunda vanished. 

In trembling tones the nurse related what she had seen to 
Franz and Amina. The Baron was scornful, and ridiculed 
the whole affair as a dream. But the cunning Amina, 
though she did not believe that a ghost had visited the 
child, thought that perhaps her rival was not really dead, 
and her old hatred and jealousy were reawakened. So 
she told her husband that she intended to see for herself 
whether there was any truth in the fantastic story, and 
would sleep that night in the nurse’s bed. She did not 
mention her suspicions, nor the fact that she carried a 
sharp dagger. She was roused in the night, as the old 
woman had been, by the sound of a cradle being rocked. 
Stealthily drawing the curtains, she saw the white-robed 
form of the dead, the black mould clinging to her hair, 
the hue of death in her face. With a wild cry Amina 
flung herself upon Kunigunda, only to find that she was 
stabbing at a thing of air, an impalpable apparition which 
vanished at a touch. Overcome with rage and fear, she sank 
to the ground. The wraith moved to the door, turning 
with a warning gesture ere she vanished from sight, and 
Amina lost consciousness, 

191 


Hero Tales & 1 Legends of the Rhine 

In the morning the Baron sought his wife in vain. He 
found instead a missive telling of her ghastly experience, 
intimating her intention of retiring to a nunnery, and 
closing with an earnest appeal to her husband to repent 
of his crimes. 

The Baron, moved with remorse and terror, followed 
Amina’s example; he sought in the mountain solitudes a 
hermitage where he might end his days in peace, and 
having found such a cell, he confided his little son to the 
care of the pastor of Wedenschied, and retired from the 
world in which he had played so sorry a part. 

The Blind Archer 

Another legend connected with the ruined stronghold of 
Ftirstenberg is the following. Long ago, in the days when 
bitter feuds and rivalries existed between the owners 
of neighbouring fortresses, there dwelt in Fiirstenberg 
a good old knight, Sir Oswald by name, well versed in the 
arts of war, and particularly proficient in archery. He had 
one son, Edwin, a handsome young man who bade fair to 
equal his father in skill and renown. 

Sir Oswald had a sworn foe in a neighbouring baron, 
Wilm von Sooneck, a rich, unscrupulous nobleman who 
sought by every possible means to get the knight into his 
power. At length his cunning schemes met with success; 
an ambush was laid for the unsuspecting Oswald as he 
rode past Sooneck Castle, attended only by a groom, and 
both he and his servant were flung into a tower, there to 
await the pleasure of their captor. 

And what that nobleman’s pleasure was soon became 
evident. Ere many days had elapsed Oswald was 
informed that his eyes were to be put out, and soon the 
cruel decree was carried into execution. 

192 


The Blind Archer 

Meanwhile Edwin awaited the coming of his father; and 
when he came not it was at first concluded that he had 
been captured or slain by robbers. But there were no 
evidences forthcoming to show that Sir Oswald had met 
with such a fate, and his son began to suspect that his 
father had fallen into the hands of Baron Wilm, for he 
knew of the bitter hatred which he bore toward the 
knight of Fiirstenberg and of his cunning and malice. 
He therefore cast about for a means of verifying his 
suspicions, and eventually disguised himself as a 
wandering minstrel, took his harp—for he had great 
skill as a musician—and set off in the direction of 
Sooneck. There he seated himself under a tree and played 
and sang sweetly, directing his gaze the while toward a 
strong tower which seemed to him a likely place for the 
incarceration of prisoners. The plaintive charm of the 
melody attracted the attention of a passing peasant, who 
drew near to listen; when the last note of the song had 
died away, he seated himself beside the minstrel and 
entered into conversation with him. 

“ Methinks thou hast an interest in yonder tower,” he 
said. 

“ In truth it interests me,” responded Edwin, nevertheless 
veiling his concern as much as possible by a seeming 
indifference. “ Is it a prison, think you ?” 

“ Ay, that it is,” replied the peasant with a laugh. “ ’Tis 
the cage where my lord of Sooneck keeps the birds whose 
feathers he has plucked.” 

Edwin, still with a show of indifference, questioned him 
further, and elicited the fact that the peasant had wit¬ 
nessed the capture and incarceration in the tower of a 
knight and his servant on the very day when Sir Oswald 
and his groom had disappeared. Nothing more could 
n 193 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Edwin glean, save that a few days hence Baron Wilm was 
to give a grand banquet, when many nobles and knights 
were to be present. 

The young man, his suspicions thus fully confirmed, felt 
that his next move must be to gain entrance to the castle, 
and he decided to take advantage of the excitement and 
bustle attendant on the banquet to achieve this end. 
Accordingly, on the day fixed for the feast he again 
donned his minstrel’s garb, and repaired to the Schloss 
Sooneck. Here, as he had anticipated, all was excitement 
and gaiety. Wine flowed freely, tongues were loosened, 
and the minstrel was welcomed uproariously and bidden to 
sing his best songs in return for a beaker of Rhenish. 
Soon the greater part of the company were tipsy, and 
Edwin moved among them, noting their conversation, 
coming at length to the seat of the host. 

“ It is said,” remarked a knight, “that you have captured 
Sir Oswald of Furstenberg.” 

Wilm, to whom the remark was addressed, smiled know¬ 
ingly and did not deny the charge. 

“ I have even heard,” pursued his companion, “ that you 
have had his eyes put out.” 

The Baron laughed outright, as at an excellent jest. 

“ Then you have heard truly,” he said. 

At this point another knight broke into the conversation. 
“ It is a pity,” said he. “ There are but few archers to 
match Oswald of Furstenberg.” 

“ I wager he can still hit a mark if it be set up,” said he 
who had first spoken. 

“ Done! ” cried Sooneck, and when the terms of the wager 
had been fixed the Baron directed that Oswald should be 
brought from the tower. 

Edwin had overheard the conversation with a breaking 
194 


Rheinstein & Reichenstein 

heart, and grief and shame almost overwhelmed him when 
he saw his father, pitifully quiet and dignified, led into 
the banquet-hall to provide sport for a company of drunken 
revellers. Oswald was informed of the wager, and bow 
and arrows were placed in his hands. 

“ Baron von Sooneck,” he cried, “ where is the mark ? ” 

“ This cup I place upon the table,” came the reply. 

The arrow was fitted to the bow, released, and lo! it was 
not the cup which was hit, but the Lord of Sooneck, who 
fell forward heavily, struck to the heart and mortally 
wounded. 

In a moment a loud outcry was raised, but ere action 
could be taken the minstrel had sprung in front of Oswald, 
and boldly faced the assembly. 

“ This knight,” he cried, “ shamefully maltreated by yonder 
villain, is my father. Whoso thinks he has acted wrongly 
in forfeiting the life of his torturer shall answer to me. 
With my sword I shall teach him better judgment.” 

The astonished knights, completely sobered by the tragic 
occurrence, could not but admire the courage of the lad 
who thus boldly championed his father, and with one voice 
they declared that Sir Oswald was a true knight and had 
done justly. 

So the blind knight, once more free, returned to his castle 
of Fiirstenberg, compensated in part for the loss of his 
sight by the loving devotion of his son. 

Rheinstein and Reichenstein 

Centuries ago the castles of Rheinstein and Reichenstein 
frowned at each other from neighbouring eminences. But 
far from being hostile, they were the residences of two 
lovers. Kuno of Reichenstein loved the fair Gerda of 
Rheinstein with a consuming passion, and, as is so 

195 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

common with lovers in all ages, doubted whether his love 
were returned. In his devotion for the maiden he showered 
on her many gifts, and although his purse was light and he 
was master of only a single tower, he did not spare his 
gold if only he could make her happy and gain from her 
one look of approval. 

On one occasion he presented to her a beauteous horse of the 
Limousin strain, bred under the shadow of his own castle. 
Deep-chested, with arched neck and eye of fire, the noble 
steed aroused the liveliest interest in the breast of Gerda, 
and she was eloquent in her thanks to the giver until, 
observing his ardent glances, her cheeks suffused with 
blushes. Taking her soft hand between his sunburnt 
palms, Kuno poured into her ear the story of his love. 

“ Gerda,” he whispered, “ I am a poor man. I have 
nothing but my sword, my ruined tower yonder, and 
honour. But they are yours. Will you take them with 
my heart ? ” 

She lifted her blue eyes to his, full of truth and trust. “ I 
will be yours,” she murmured; “yours and none other’s 
till death.” 

Young Kuno left Rheinstein that afternoon, his heart 
beating high with hope and happiness. The blood 
coursing through his veins at a gallop made him spur his 
charger to a like pace. But though he rode fast his brain 
was as busy as his hand and his heart. He must, in 
conformity with Rhenish custom, send as an embassy to 
Gerda’s father one of his most distinguised relations. 
To whom was he to turn? There was no one but old 
Kurt, his wealthy uncle, whom he could send as an 
emissary, and although the old man had an unsavoury 
reputation, he decided to confide the mission to him. 
Kurt undertook the task in no kindly spirit, for he 
196 


Rheinstein Reichenstein 

disliked Kuno because of his virtuous life and the cir¬ 
cumstance that he was his heir, whom he felt was waiting 
to step into his shoes. However, he waited next day 
upon Gerda’s father, the Lord of Rheinstein, and was 
received with all the dignity suitable to his rank and age. 
But when his glance rested upon the fair and innocent 
Gerda, such a fierce desire to make her his arose in his 
withered breast that when she had withdrawn he demanded 
her hand for himself. To her father he drew an alluring 
picture of his rank, his possessions, his castles, his gold, 
until the old man, with whom avarice was a passion, gave 
a hearty consent to his suit, and dismissed him with the 
assurance that Gerda would be his within the week. 

The clatter of hoofs had hardly died away when the Lord 
of Rheinstein sought his daughter’s bower, where she sat 
dreaming of Kuno. In honeyed words the old man 
described the enviable position she would occupy as the 
spouse of a wealthy man, and then conveyed to her the 
information that Kurt had asked him for her hand. 
Gerda, insulted at the mere thought of becoming the bride 
of such a man, refused to listen to the proposal, even from 
the lips of her father, and she acquainted him with her 
love for Kuno, whom, she declared, she had fully resolved 
to marry. At this avowal her father worked himself into 
a furious passion, and assured her that she should never 
be the bride of such a penniless adventurer. After further 
insulting the absent Kuno, and alluding in a most offensive 
manner to his daughter’s lack of discernment and good 
taste, he quitted her bower, assuring her as he went that 
she should become the bride of Kurt on the morrow. 
Gerda spent a miserable night sitting by the dying fire in 
her chamber, planning how she might escape from the 
detested Kurt, until at last her wearied brain refused to 

197 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

work and she fell into a troubled slumber. In the morning 
she was awakened by her handmaiden, who, greatly con¬ 
cerned for her mistress, had spent the night in prayer. 
But Gerda’s tears had fled with the morning, and she 
resolved, come what might, to refuse to the last to wed 
with the hateful Kurt. She learned that Kuno had 
attempted to assault the castle during the night with the 
object of carrying her off, but that he had been repulsed 
with some loss to his small force. This made her only the 
more determined to persist in her resistance to his uncle. 
Meantime the vassals and retainers of the house of 
Rheinstein had been summoned to the castle to attend 
the approaching ceremony, and their gay apparel now 
shone and glittered in the sunshine. The sound of pipe, 
tabour, and psaltery in melodious combination arose from 
the valley, and all hearts, save one, were happy. The gates 
were thrown open, and the bridal procession formed up to 
proceed to the ancient church where the unhappy Gerda 
was to be sacrificed to Kurt. First came a crowd of 
serfs, men, women, and children, all shouting in joyful 
anticipation of the wedding feast. Then followed the 
vassals and retainers of the Lord of Rheinstein, according 
to their several degrees, and, last, the principal actors in 
the shameful ceremony, Kurt, surrounded by his retainers, 
and the Lord of Rheinstein with the luckless Gerda. The 
mellow tones of the bell of St. Clement mingled sweetly 
with the sound of the flute and the pipe and the merry 
voices of the wedding throng. Gerda, mounted upon her 
spirited Limousin steed, the gift of Kuno, shuddered as 
she felt Kurt's eyes resting upon her, and she cast a 
despairing glance at the tower of Kuno’s castle, where, 
disconsolate and heavy of heart, he watched the bridal 
procession from the highest turret. 

198 


RHEINSTEIN 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page 198 












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CSr " 'l-^wrjgBR 

































Rheinstein & Reichenstein 

The procession halted at the portal of the church, and all 
dismounted save Gerda. She was approached by the 
bridegroom, who with an air of leering gallantry offered 
her his assistance in alighting. At this moment swarms 
of gadflies rested on the flanks of the Limousin steed, and 
the spirited beast, stung to madness by the flies, reared, 
plunged, and broke away in a gallop, scattering the spec¬ 
tators to right and left, and flying like the wind along the 
river-bank. 

“To horse, to horse!” cried Kurt and the Lord of 
Rheinstein, and speedily as many mounted, the bride¬ 
groom, for all his age, was first in the saddle. 

With the clattering of a hundred hoofs the wedding party 
galloped madly along Rhineside, Kurt leading on a fleet 
and powerful charger. 

“ Halt! ” he cried. “ Draw rein—draw rein !” But not¬ 
withstanding their shouts, cries, and entreaties, Gerda 
spurred on the already maddened Limousin, which thun¬ 
dered along the familiar road to Kuno’s castle of Reichen¬ 
stein. The noble steed’s direction was quickly espied by 
Kuno, who hastened to the principal entrance of his strong¬ 
hold. 

“Throw open the gates,” he shouted. “Down with the 
drawbridge. Bravo, gallant steed ! ” 

But Kurt was close behind. Gerda could feel the breath 
of his charger on the hands which held her rein. Close 
he rode by her, but might never snatch her from the 
saddle. Like the wind they sped. Now she was a pace 
in front, now they careered onward neck and neck. 
Suddenly he leaned over to seize her rein, but at that 
instant his horse stumbled, fell, and threw the ancient 
gallant heavily. Down he came on a great boulder and 
lay motionless. 


199 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Another moment, and the hoof-beat of the breathless steed 
sounded on the drawbridge of Reichenstein. The vassals 
of Kuno hastened to the gate to resist the expected attack, 
but there was none. For the wretched Kurt lay dead, 
killed by the fall, and his vassals were now eager to acclaim 
Kuno as their lord, while the Lord of Rheinstein, shrewdly 
observing the direction of affairs, took advantage of the 
tumultuous moment to make his peace with Kuno. 

The lovers were wedded next day amid the acclamations 
of their friends and retainers, and Kuno and Gerda dwelt 
in Rheinstein for many a year, loving and beloved. 


200 


CHAPTER V : FALKENBURG 
TO AUERBACH 

The Legend of Falkenburg 

I N the imperial fortress of Falkenburg dwelt the beauti¬ 
ful Liba, the most charming and accomplished of 
maidens, with her widowed mother. Many were the 
suitors who climbed the hill to Falkenburg to seek the 
hand of Liba, for besides being beautiful she was gentle 
and virtuous, and withal possessed of a modest fortune 
left her by her father. But to all their pleadings she 
turned a deaf ear, for she was already betrothed to a 
young knight named Guntram whom she had known since 
childhood, and they only waited until Guntram should 
have received his fief from the Palsgrave to marry and 
settle down. 

One May morning, while Liba was seated at a window 
of the castle watching the ships pass to and fro on the 
glassy bosom of the Rhine, she beheld Guntram riding 
up the approach to Falkenburg, and hastened to meet 
him. The gallant knight informed his betrothed that he 
was on his way to the Palsgrave to receive his fief, and 
had but turned aside in his journey in order to greet his 
beloved. She led him into the castle, where her mother 
received him graciously enough, well pleased at her 
daughter’s choice. 

“ And now, farewell,” said Guntram. “ I must hasten. 
When I return we two shall wed; see to it that all is in 
readiness.” 

With that he mounted his horse and rode out of the court¬ 
yard, turning to wave a gay farewell to Liba. The maiden 
watched him disappear round a turn in the winding path, 
then slowly re-entered the castle. 


201 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

Meanwhile Guntram went on his way, and was at length 
invested with his fief. The Palsgrave, pleased with the 
manners and appearance of the young knight, appointed 
him to be his ambassador in Burgundy, which honour 
Guntram, though with much reluctance, felt it necessary 
to accept. He dispatched a messenger to his faithful 
Liba, informing her of his appointment, which admitted of 
no delay, and regretting the consequent postponement of 
their marriage. She, indeed, was ill-pleased with the 
tidings and felt instinctively that some calamity was about 
to befall. After a time her foreboding affected her health 
and spirits, her former pursuits and pleasures were neg¬ 
lected, and day after day she sat listlessly at her casement, 
awaiting the return of her lover. 

Guntram, having successfully achieved his mission, 
set out on the homeward journey. On the way he had 
to pass through a forest, and, having taken a wrong 
path, lost his way. He wandered on without meeting 
a living creature, and came at last to an old dilapidated 
castle, into the courtyard of which he entered, thankful to 
have reached a human habitation. He gave his horse to 
a staring boy, who looked at him as though he were a ghost. 
“Where is your master?” queried Guntram. 

The boy indicated an ivy-grown tower, to which the knight 
made his way. The whole place struck him as strangely 
sombre and weird, a castle of shadows and vague horror. 
He was shown into a gloomy chamber by an aged attendant, 
and there awaited the coming of the lord. Opposite him 
was hung a veiled picture, and half hoping that he might 
solve the mystery which pervaded the place, he drew aside 
the curtain. From the canvas there looked out at him 
a lady of surpassing beauty, and the young knight started 
back in awe and admiration. 


202 


The Legend of Falkenburg 

In a short time the attendant returned with a thin, tall 
old man, the lord of the castle, who welcomed the guest 
with grave courtesy, and offered the hospitality of his 
castle. Guntram gratefully accepted his host’s invitation, 
and when he had supped he conversed with the old man, 
whom he found well-informed and cultured. 

“You appear to be fond of music,” said the knight, 
indicating a harp which lay in a corner of the room. 

He had observed, however, that the strings of the harp 
were broken, and that the instrument seemed to have been 
long out of use, and thought that it possibly had some 
connexion with the original of the veiled portrait. What¬ 
ever recollections his remark aroused must have been 
painful indeed, for the host sighed heavily. 

“ It has long been silent,” he said. “ My happiness has 
fled with its music. Good night, and sleep well.” And 
ere the astonished guest t could utter a word the old man 
abruptly withdrew from the room. 

Shortly afterward the old attendant entered, bearing pro¬ 
fuse apologies from his master, and begging that the 
knight would continue to accept his hospitality. Guntram 
followed the old man to his chamber. As they passed 
through the adjoining apartment he stopped before the 
veiled portrait. 

“Tell me,” he said, “why is so lovely a picture 
hidden?” 

“ Then you have seen it ?” asked the old keeper. “ That 
is my master’s daughter. When she was alive she was 
even more beautiful than her portrait, but she was a very 
capricious maid, and demanded that her lovers should per¬ 
form well-nigh impossible feats. At last only one of these 
lovers remained, and of him she asked that he should 
descend into the family vault and bring her a golden 

203 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

crown from the head of one of her ancestors. He did as 
he was bidden, but his profanation was punished with 
death. A stone fell from the roof and killed him. The 
young man’s mother died soon after, cursing the foolish 
maid, who herself died in the following year. But ere she 
was buried she disappeared from her coffin and was seen 
no more.” 

When the story was ended they had arrived at the door 
of the knight’s chamber, and in bidding him good night 
the attendant counselled him to say his paternoster should 
anything untoward happen. 

Guntram wondered at his words, but at length fell asleep. 
Some hours later he was awakened suddenly by the 
rustling of a woman’s gown and the soft strains of a harp, 
which seemed to come from the adjoining room. The 
knight rose quietly and looked through a chink in 
the door, when he beheld a lady dressed in white and 
bending over a harp of gold. He recognized in her the 
original of the veiled portrait, and saw that even the 
lovely picture had done her less than justice. For a 
moment he stood with hands clasped in silent admiration. 
Then with a low sound, half cry, half sob, she cast the 
harp from her and sank down in an attitude of utter 
despondency. The knight could bear it no longer and 
(quite forgetting his paternoster) he flung open the 
door and knelt at her feet, raising her hand to his lips. 
Gradually she became composed. “ Do you love me, 
knight?” she said. Guntram swore that he did, with 
many passionate avowals, and the lady slipped a ring on 
his finger. Even as he embraced her the cry of a screech-owl 
rang through the night air, and the maiden became a corpse 
in his arms. Overcome with terror, he staggered through 
the darkness to his room, where he sank down unconscious. 
204 


The Legend of Falkenburg 

On coming to himself again, he thought for a moment 
that the experience must have been a dream, but the ring 
on his hand assured him that the vision was a ghastly 
reality. He attempted to remove the gruesome token, but 
he found to his horror that it seemed to have grown to 
his finger. 

In the morning he related his experience to the attendant. 
“Alas, alas ! ” said the old man, “ in three times nine days 
you must die.” 

Guntram was quite overcome by the horror of his 
situation, and seemed for a time bereft of his senses. 
Then he had his horse saddled, and galloped as hard as 
he was able to Falkenburg. Liba greeted him solicitously. 
She could see that he was sorely troubled, but forbore to 
question him, preferring to wait until he should confide 
in her of his own accord. He was anxious that their 
wedding should be hastened, for he thought that his 
union’»with the virtuous Liba might break the dreadful 
spell. 

When at length the wedding day arrived everything 
seemed propitious, and there was nothing to indicate the 
misfortune which threatened the bridegroom. The couple 
approached the altar and the priest joined their hands. 
Suddenly Guntram fell to the ground, foaming and 
gasping, and was carried thence to his home. The 
faithful Liba stayed by his side, and when he had partially 
recovered the knight told her the story of the spectre, and 
added that when the priest had joined their hands he had 
imagined that the ghost had put her cold hand in his. 
Liba attempted to soothe her repentant lover, and sent 
for a priest to finish the interrupted wedding ceremony. 
This concluded, Guntram embraced his wife, received 
absolution, and expired. 


205 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

Liba entered a convent, and a few years later she 
herself passed away, and was buried by the side of her 
husband. 

The Mouse Tower 

Bishop Hatto is a figure equally well known to history and 
tradition, though, curiously enough, receiving a much 
rougher handling from the latter than the former. History 
relates that Hatto was Archbishop of Mainz in the tenth 
century, being the second of his name to occupy that see. 
As a ruler he was firm, zealous, and upright, if somewhat 
ambitious and high-handed, and his term of office was 
marked by a civic peace not always experienced in those 
times. So much for history. According to tradition, 
Hatto was a stony-hearted oppressor of the poor, per¬ 
mitting nothing to stand in the way of the attainment of 
his own selfish ends, and several wild legends exhibit him 
in a peculiarly unfavourable light. 

By far the most popular of these traditions is that which 
deals with the Mduseturm , or ‘ Mouse Tower,’ situated 
on a small island in the Rhine near Bingen. It has never 
been quite decided whether the name was bestowed because 
of the legend, or whether the legend arose on account of 
the name, and it seems at least probable that the tale is 
of considerably later date than the tenth century. Some 
authorities regard the word Mduseturm as a corruption 
of Mauth-turm , a ‘toll-tower,’ a probable but prosaic 
interpretation. Much more interesting is the name ‘ Mouse 
Tower,’ which gives point to the tragic tale of Bishop 
Hatto’s fate. The story cannot be better told than in the 
words of Southey, who has immortalized it in the follow¬ 
ing ballad : 


206 


THE MOUSE TOWER, NEAR BINGEN 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 

Facing page 206 









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The Mouse Tower 


THE TRADITION OF BISHOP HATTO 

The summer and autumn had been so wet, 

That in winter the corn was growing yet; 

’Twas a piteous sight to see all around 
The grain lie rotting on the ground. 

Every day the starving poor 
Crowded around Bishop Hatto’s door, 

For he had a plentiful last-year’s store, 

And all the neighbourhood could tell 
His granaries were furnished well. 

At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day 
To quiet the poor without delay ; 

He bade them to his great barn repair, 

And they should have food for the winter there. 

Rejoiced such tidings good to hear, 

The poor folk flocked from far and near; 

The great barn was full as it could hold 
Of women and children, and young and old. 

Then when he saw it could hold no more, 

Bishop Hatto he made fast the door; 

And while for mercy on Christ they call, 

He set fire to the barn and burnt them all. 

“ I’ faith, ’tis an excellent bonfire ! ” quoth he, 

“ And the country is greatly obliged to me 
For ridding it in these times forlorn 
Of rats that only consume the corn.” 

So then to his palace returned he, 

And he sat down to supper merrily; 

And he slept that night like an innocent man, 
But Bishop Hatto never slept again. 

In the morning as he enter’d the hall 
Where his picture hung against the wall, 

A sweat like death all over him came, 

For the rats had eaten it out of the frame. 

As he looked there came a man from his farm, 
He had a countenance white with alarm; 

“ My lord, I opened your granaries this morn, 
And the rats had eaten all your corn.” 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Another came running presently, 

And he was pale as pale could be ; 

“ Fly, my Lord Bishop, fly ! ” quoth he, 

“Ten thousand rats are coming this way— 

The Lord forgive you for yesterday ! ” 

“ I’ll go to my tower on the Rhine,” replied he, 

“ ’Tis the safest place in Germany ; 

The walls are high and the shores are steep, 

And the stream is strong and the water deep.” 

Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away, 

And he crossed the Rhine without delay, 

And reached his tower, and barred with care 
All windows, doors, and loop-holes there. 

He laid him down and closed his eyes;— 

But soon a scream made him arise, 

He started and saw two eyes of flame 

On his pillow from whence the screaming came. 

He listened and looked—it was only the cat; 

But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that, 

For she sat screaming, mad with fear, 

At the army of rats that were drawing near. 

For they have swum over the river so deep, 

And they have climbed the shores so steep, 

And up the tower their way is bent, 

To do the work for which they were sent. 

They are not to be told by the dozen or score, 

By thousands they come, and by myriads and more, 

Such numbers had never been heard of before, 

Such a judgment had never been witnessed of yore. 

Down on his knees the Bishop fell, 

And faster and faster his beads did he tell, 

As louder and louder, drawing near, 

The gnawing of their teeth he could hear. 

And in at the windows and in at the door, 

And through the walls helter-skelter they pour, 

And down through the ceiling, and up through the floor, 
From the right and the left, from behind and before, 
From within and without, from above and below, 

And all at once to the Bishop they go. 


208 


A Legend of Ehrenfels 

They have whetted their teeth against the stones, 
And now they pick the Bishop’s bones; 

They gnawed the flesh from every limb, 

For they were sent to do judgment on him. 


A Legend of Ehrenfels 

Many other tales are told to illustrate Hatto’s cruelty and 
treachery. Facing the Mouse Tower, on the opposite 
bank of the Rhine, stands the castle of Ehrenfels, the 
scene of another of his ignoble deeds. 

Conrad, brother of the Emperor Ludwig, had, it is said, 
been seized and imprisoned in Ehrenfels by the Franconian 
lord of that tower, Adalbert by name. It was the fortune 
of war, and Ludwig in turn gathered a small force and 
hastened to his brother’s assistance. His attempts to 
storm the castle, however, were vain; the stronghold and 
its garrison stood firm. Ludwig was minded to give up 
the struggle for the time being, and would have done so, 
indeed, but for the intervention of his friend and adviser, 
Bishop Hatto. 

“ Leave him to me,” said the crafty Churchman. “ I 
know how to deal with him.” 

Ludwig was curious to know how his adviser proposed to 
get the better of Adalbert, whom he knew of old to be a 
man of courage and resource, but ill-disposed toward the 
reigning monarch. So the Bishop unfolded his scheme, 
to which Ludwig, with whom honour was not an out¬ 
standing feature, gave his entire approval. 

In pursuance of his design Hatto sallied forth unattended, 
and made his way to the beleaguered fortress. Adalbert, 
himself a stranger to cunning and trickery, hastened to 
admit the messenger, whose garb showed him to be a 
priest, thinking him bound on an errand of peace. Hatto 
o 209 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

professed the deepest sorrow at the quarrel between Ludwig 
and Adalbert. 

“ My son,” said he solemnly, “ it is not meet that you and 
the Emperor, who once were friends, should treat each 
other as enemies. Our sire is ready to forgive you for the 
sake of old friendship; will you not give him the oppor¬ 
tunity and come with me?” 

Adalbert was entirely deceived by the seeming sincerity 
of the Bishop, and so touched by the clemency of the 
sovereign that he promised to go in person and make 
submission if Hatto would but guarantee his safety. 

The conversation was held in the Count’s oratory, and the 
Churchman knelt before the crucifix and swore in the most 
solemn manner that he would bring Adalbert safely back 
to his castle. 

In a very short time they were riding together on the road 
to Mainz, where Ludwig held court. When they were a 
mile or two from Ehrenfels Hatto burst into a loud laugh, 
and in answer to the Count’s questioning glance he said 
merrily: 

“ What a perfect host you are ! You let your guest depart 
without even asking him whether he has breakfasted. 
And I am famishing, I assure you ! ” 

The courteous Adalbert was stricken with remorse, and 
murmured profuse apologies to his guest. “ You must 
think but poorly of my hospitality,” said he; “in my 
loyalty I forgot my duty as a host.” 

“ It is no matter,” said Hatto, still laughing. “ But since 
we have come but a little way, would it not be better to 
return to Ehrenfels and breakfast ? You are young and 
strong, but I-” 

“With pleasure,” replied the Count, and soon they were 
again within the castle enjoying a hearty meal. With her 
210 



Rheingrafenstein 

own hands the young Countess presented a beaker of 
wine to the guest, and he, ere quaffing it, cried gaily to 
Adalbert: 

“ Your health! May you have the reward I wish for you ! ” 
Once again they set out on their journey, and reached 
Mainz about nightfall. That very night Adalbert was 
seized ignominiously and dragged before the Emperor. 
By Ludwig’s side stood the false Bishop. 

“ What means this outrage ? ” cried the Count, looking 
from one to the other. 

“Thou art a traitor,” said Ludwig, “and must suffer the 
death of a traitor.” 

Adalbert addressed himself to the Bishop. 

“And thou,” he said, “thou gavest me thine oath that 
thou wouldst bring me in safety to Ehrenfels.” 

“And did I not do so, fool?” replied Hatto contemp¬ 
tuously. “ Was it my fault if thou didst not exact a pledge 
ere we set out for the second time ? ” 

Adalbert saw now the trap into which he had fallen, and 
his fettered limbs trembled with anger against the crafty 
priest. But he was impotent. 

“ Away with him to the block! ” said the Emperor. 
“Amen,” sneered Hatto, still chuckling over the success 
of his strategy. 

And so Adalbert went forth to his doom, the victim of 
the cruel Churchman’s treachery. 

Rheingrafenstein 

Rheingrafenstein, perched upon its sable foundations of 
porphyry, is the scene of a legend which tells of a terrible 
bargain with Satan—that theme so frequent in German 
folk-tale. 

A certain nobleman, regarding the site as impregnable 

211 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

and therefore highly desirable, resolved to raise a castle 
upon the lofty eminence. But the more he considered the 
plan the more numerous appeared the difficulties in the 
way of its consummation. 

Every pro and con was carefully argued, but to no avail, 
At last in desperation the nobleman implored assistance 
from the Enemy of Mankind, who, hearing his name 
invoked, and scenting the possibility of gaining a recruit 
to the hosts of Tartarus, speedily manifested his presence, 
promising to build the castle in one night if the nobleman 
would grant him the first living creature who should look 
from its windows. To this the nobleman agreed, and upon 
the following day found the castle awaiting his possession. 
He did not dare to enter it, however. But he had com¬ 
municated his secret to his wife, who decided to circum¬ 
vent the Evil One by the exercise of her woman’s wit. 
Mounting her donkey, she rode into the castle, bidding all 
her men follow her. Satan waited on the alert. But the 
Countess amid great laughter pinned a kerchief upon the 
ass’s head, covered it with a cap, and, leading it to the 
window, made it thrust its head outside. 

Satan immediately pounced upon what he believed to be 
his lawful prey, and with joy in his heart seized upon and 
carried off the struggling beast of burden. But the donkey 
emitted such a bray that, recognizing the nature of his 
prize, the Fiend in sheer disgust dropped it and vanished 
in a sulphurous cloud, to the accompaniment of inextin¬ 
guishable laughter from Rheingrafenstein. 

Rudesheim and its Legends 

The town of Rudesheim is a place famous in song and 
story, and some of the legends connected with it date from 
almost prehistoric times. Passing by in the steamer, the 
212 


RHEINGRAFENSTEIN 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 


Facing page 212 








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Rudesheim Its Legends 

traveller who cares for architecture will doubtless be 
surprised to mark an old church which would seem to be 
at least partly of Norman origin ; but this is not the 
only French association which Rudesheim boasts, for 
Charlemagne, it is said, loved the place and frequently 
resided there, while tradition even asserts that he it was 
who instituted the vine-growing industry on the adjacent 
hills. He perceived that whenever snow fell there it 
melted with amazing rapidity; and, judging from this 
that the soil was eminently suitable for bringing forth a 
specially fine quality of grape, he sent to France for a few 
young vine plants. Soon these were thriving in a manner 
which fully justified expectations. The wines of Rudesheim 
became exceptionally famous; and, till comparatively 
recent times, one of the finest blends was always known 
as Wein von Orleans , for it was thence that the pristine 
cuttings had been imported. 

But it need scarcely be said, perhaps, that most of the 
legends current at Rudesheim are not concerned with so 
essentially pacific an affair as the production of Rhenish. 
Another story of the place relates how one of its medieval 
noblemen, Hans, Graf von Brauser, having gone to 
Palestine with a band of Crusaders, was taken prisoner by 
the Saracens; and during the period of his captivity he 
vowed that, should he ever regain his liberty, he would 
signify his pious gratitude by causing his only daughter, 
Minna, to take the veil. Rather a selfish kind of piety 
this appears ! Yet mayhap Hans was really devoted to 
his daughter, and his resolution to part with her possibly 
entailed a heart-rending sacrifice; while, be that as it may, 
he had the reward he sought, for now his prison was 
stormed and he himself released, whereupon he hastened 
back to his home at Rudesheim with intent to fulfil his 

213 



Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

promise to God. On reaching his schloss, however, Graf 
Hans was confronted by a state of affairs which had not 
entered into his calculations, the fact being that in the 
interim his daughter had conceived an affection for a 
young nobleman called Walther, and had promised to 
marry him at an early date. Here, then, was a complica¬ 
tion indeed, and Hans was sorely puzzled to know how 
to act, while the unfortunate Minna was equally perplexed, 
and for many weeks she endured literal torment, her heart 
being racked by a constant storm of emotions. She 
was deeply attached to Walther, and she felt that she 
would never be able to forgive herself if she broke her 
promise to him and failed to bring him the happiness 
which both were confident their marriage would produce ; 
but, on the other hand, being of a religious disposition, 
she perforce respected the vow her father had made, and 
thought that if it were broken he and all his household 
would be doomed to eternal damnation, while even Walther 
might be involved in their ruin. “ Shall I make him happy 
in this world only that he may lose his soul in the next ? ” 
she argued; while again and again her father reminded 
her that a promise to God was of more moment than a 
promise to man, and he implored her to hasten to the 
nearest convent and retire behind its walls. Still she 
wavered, however, and still her father pleaded with her, 
sometimes actually threatening to exert his parental 
authority. One evening, driven to despair, Minna sought 
to cool her throbbing pulses by a walk on the wind-swept 
heights overlooking the Rhine at Rudesheim. Possibly 
she would be able to come to a decision there, she thought; 
but no ! she could not bring herself to renounce her lover, 
and with a cry of despair she flung herself over the steep 
rocks into the swirling stream. 

214 


Gisela 

A hideous death it was. The maiden was immolated on 
the altar of superstition, and the people of Riidesheim 
were awestruck as they thought of the pathetic form 
drifting down the river. Nor did posterity fail to re¬ 
member the story, and down to recent times the boatmen 
of the neighbourhood, when seeing the Rhine wax stormy 
at the place where Minna was drowned, were wont to 
whisper that her soul was walking abroad, and that the 
maiden was once again wrestling with the conflicting 
emotions which had broken her heart long ago. 

Gisela 

Knight Bromser of Riidesheim was one of those who 
renounced comfort and home ties to throw in his lot with 
the Crusaders. He was a widower, and possessed a 
beautiful daughter, Gisela. In the holy wars in Pales¬ 
tine Bromser soon became distinguished for his bravery, 
and enterprises requiring wit and prowess often were 
entrusted to him. 

Now it befell that the Christian camp was thrown into 
consternation by the appearance of a huge dragon which 
took up its abode in the mountainous country, the only 
locality whence water could be procured, and the increas¬ 
ing scarcity of the supply necessitated the extirpation of 
the monster. The Crusaders were powerless through 
fear; many of them regarded the dragon as a punishment 
sent from Heaven because of the discord and rivalry 
which divided them. 

At last the brave Bromser offered to attempt the dragon’s 
destruction, and after a valiant struggle he succeeded in 
slaying it. On his way back to the camp he was surprised 
by a party of Saracens, and after various hardships was 
cast into a dungeon. Here he remained in misery for a 

215 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

long while, and during his solitary confinement he made 
a vow that if he ever returned to his native land he 
would found a convent and dedicate his daughter as its 
first nun. 

Some time later the Saracens’ stronghold was attacked 
by Christians and the knight set free. In due course he 
returned to Rtidesheim, where he was welcomed by Gisela, 
and the day after his arrival a young knight named Kurt 
of Falkenstein begged him for her hand. Gisela avowed 
her love for Kurt, and Bromser sadly replied that he would 
willingly accede to the young people’s wishes, for Falken- 
stein’s father was his companion-in-arms, were he not 
bound by a solemn vow to dedicate his daughter to the 
Church. When Falkenstein at last understood that the 
knight’s decision was irrevocable he galloped off as if 
crazed. The knight’s vow, however, was not to be fulfilled ; 
Gisela’s reason became unhinged, she wandered aimlessly 
through the corridors of the castle, and one dark and 
stormy night cast herself into the Rhine and was drowned. 
Bromser built the convent, but in vain did he strive to free 
his conscience from remorse. Many were his benefactions, 
and he built a church on the spot where one of his ser¬ 
vants found a wooden figure of the Crucified, which was 
credited with miraculous powers of healing. But all to no 
purpose. Haunted by the accusing spirit of his unfortu¬ 
nate daughter, he gradually languished and at last died in 
the same year that the church was completed. 

Further up the river is Oestrich, adjacent to which stood 
the famous convent of Gottesthal, not a vestige of which 
remains to mark its former site. Its memory is preserved, 
however, in the following appalling legend, the noble referred 
to being the head of one of the ancient families of the 
neighbourhood. 

216 


The Nun of Oestrich 


The Nun of Oestrich 

Among the inmates of Gottesthal was a nun of surpassing 
loveliness, whose beauty had aroused the wild passion of 
a certain noble. Undeterred by the fact of the lady being 
a cloistered nun, he found a way of communicating his 
passion to her, and at last met her face to face, despite 
bars and bolts. Eloquently he pleaded his love, swearing 
to free her from her bonds, to devote his life to her if 
only she would listen to his entreaties. He ended his 
asseverations by kneeling before the statue of the Virgin, 
vowing in her name and that of the Holy Babe to be 
true, and renouncing his hopes of Heaven if he should fail 
in the least of his promises. The nun listened and in the 
end, overcome by his fervour, consented to his wishes. 

So one night, under cover of the darkness, she stole from 
the sheltering convent, forgetting her vows in the arms of 
her lover. Then for a while she knew a guilty happiness, 
but even this was of short duration, for the knight soon 
tired and grew cold toward her. At length she was left 
alone, scorned and sorrowful, a prey to misery, while her 
betrayer rode off in search of other loves and gaieties, 
spreading abroad as he went the story of his conquest and 
his desertion. 

When the injured woman learned the true character of 
her lover her love changed to a frenzied hate. Her 
whole being became absorbed in a desire for revenge, 
her thoughts by day being occupied by schemes for com¬ 
passing his death, her dreams by night being reddened 
by his blood. At last she plotted with a band of ruffians, 
promising them great rewards if they would assassinate 
her enemy. They agreed and, waylaying the noble, 
stabbed him fatally in the name of the woman he had 
* 217 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

wronged and slighted, then, carrying the hacked body 
into the village church, they flung it at the foot of the 
altar. 

That night the nun, in a passion of insensate fury, stole 
into the holy place. Down the length of the church she 
dragged her lover’s corpse, and out into the graveyard, 
tearing open his body and plucking his heart therefrom 
with a fell purpose that never wavered. With a shriek 
she flung it on the ground and trampled upon it in a 
ruthlessness of hate terrible to contemplate. 

And the legend goes on to tell that after her death she 
still pursued her lover with unquenchable hatred. It is said 
that when the midnight bell is tolling she may yet be seen 
seeking his tomb, from which she lifts a bloody heart. 
She gazes on it with eyes aflame, then, laughing with 
hellish glee, flings it three times toward the skies, only to 
let it fall to earth, where she treads it beneath her feet, 
while from her thick white veil runnels of blood pour 
down and all around dreary death-lights burn and shed 
a ghastly glow upon the awful spectre. 

Ingelheim: Charlemagne the Robber 
Among the multitude of legends which surround the 
name of Charlemagne there can hardly be found a 
quainter or more interesting one than that which has for 
a background the old town of Ingelheim (Angel’s Home), 
where at one time the Emperor held his court. 

It is said that one night when Charlemagne had retired 
to rest he was disturbed by a curious dream. In his vision 
he saw an angel descend on broad white pinions to his 
bedside, and the heavenly visitant bade him in the name 
of the Lord go forth and steal some of his neighbour’s 
goods. The angel warned him ere he departed that the 
218 


Ingelheim : Charlemagne the Robber 

speedy forfeiture of throne and life would be the penalty 
for disregarding the divine injunction. 

The astonished Emperor pondered the strange message, 
but finally decided that it was but a dream, and he turned 
on his side to finish his interrupted slumbers. Scarcely 
had he closed his eyelids, however, ere the divine mes¬ 
senger was again at his side, exhorting him in still 
stronger terms to go forth and steal ere the night passed, 
and threatening him this time with the loss of his soul 
if he failed to obey. 

When the angel again disappeared the trembling monarch 
raised himself in bed, sorely troubled at the difficulty of 
his situation. That he, so rich, so powerful that he 
wanted for nothing, should be asked to go out in the dead 
of night and steal his neighbour’s goods, like any of the 
common robbers whom he was wont to punish so severely! 
No! the thing was preposterous. Some fiend had appeared 
in angelic form to tempt him. And again his weary head 
sank in his pillow. Rest, however, was denied him. For 
a third time the majestic being appeared, and in tones 
still more stern demanded his obedience. 

“ If thou be not a thief,” said he, “ ere yonder moon 
sinks in the west, then art thou lost, body and soul, for 
ever.” 

The Emperor could no longer disbelieve the divine nature 
of the message, and he arose sadly, dressed himself in 
full armour, and took up his sword and shield, his spear 
and hunting-knife. Stealthily he quitted his chamber, 
fearing every moment to be discovered. He imagined him¬ 
self being detected by his own court in the act of privily 
leaving his own palace, as though he were a robber, 
and the thought was intolerable. But his fears were 
unfounded; all—warders, porters, pages, grooms, yea, 

219 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

the very dogs and horses—were wrapped in a profound 
slumber. Confirmed in his determination by this miracle 
—for it could be nothing less—the Emperor saddled his 
favourite horse, which alone remained awake, and set out 
on his quest. 

It was a beautiful night in late autumn. The moon hung 
like a silver shield in the deep blue arch of the sky, 
casting weird shadows on the slopes and lighting the 
gloom of the ancient forests. But Charlemagne had no 
eye for scenery at the moment. He was filled with grief 
and shame when he thought of his mission, yet he dared 
not turn aside from it. To add to his misery, he was 
unacquainted with the technicalities of the profession thus 
thrust upon him, and did not quite know how to set 
about it. 

For the first time in his life, too, he began to sympathize 
with the robbers he had outlawed and persecuted, and to 
understand the risks and perils of their life. Nevermore, 
he vowed, would he hang a man for a trifling inroad upon 
his neighbour’s property. 

As he thus pursued his reflections a knight, clad from 
head to foot in coal-black armour and mounted on a black 
steed, issued silently from a clump of trees and rode unseen 
beside him. 

Charlemagne continued to meditate upon the dangers and 
misfortunes of a robber’s life. 

“There is Elbegast,” said he to himself; “for a small 
offence I have deprived him of land and fee, and have 
hunted him like an animal. He and his knights risk their 
lives for every meal. He respects not the cloth of the 
Church, it is true, yet methinks he is a noble fellow, for 
he robs not the poor or the pilgrim, but rather enriches them 
with part of his plunder. Would he were with me now! ” 
220 


Ingelheim : Charlemagne the Robber 

His reflections were suddenly stopped, for he now observed 
the black knight riding by his side. 

“It may be the Fiend,” said Charlemagne to himself, 
spurring his steed. 

But though he rode faster and faster, his strange com¬ 
panion kept pace with him. At length the Emperor 
reined in his steed, and demanded to know who the 
stranger might be. The black knight refused to answer 
his questions, and the two thereupon engaged in furious 
combat. Again and again the onslaught was renewed, 
till at last Charlemagne succeeded in cleaving his oppo¬ 
nent’s blade. 

“ My life is yours,” said the black knight. 

“ Nay,” replied the monarch, “ what would I with your 
life? Tell me who you are, for you have fought gallantly 
this night.” 

The stranger drew himself up and replied with simple 
dignity, “I am Elbegast.” 

Charlemagne was delighted at thus having his wish ful¬ 
filled. He refused to divulge his name, but intimated 
that he, too, was a robber, and proposed that they should 
join forces for the night. 

“ I have it,” said he. “ We will rob the Emperor’s 
treasury. I think I could show you the way.” 

The black knight paused. “ Never yet,” he said, “have 
I wronged the Emperor, and I shall not do so now. But 
at no great distance stands the castle of Eggerich von 
Eggermond, brother-in-law to the Emperor. He has per¬ 
secuted the poor and betrayed the innocent to death. If 
he could, he would take the life of the Emperor himself, to 
whom he owes all. Let us repair thither.” 

Near their destination they tied their horses to a tree and 
strode across the fields. On the way Charlemagne wrenched 

221 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

off the iron share from a plough, remarking that it would 
be an excellent tool wherewith to bore a hole in the castle 
wall—a remark which his comrade received in silence, 
though not without surprise. When they arrived at the 
castle Elbegast seemed anxious to see the ploughshare at 
work, for he begged Charlemagne to begin operations. 

“ I know not how to find entrance,” said the latter. 

“ Let us make a hole in the wall,” the robber-knight sug¬ 
gested, producing a boring instrument of great strength. 
The Emperor gallantly set to work with his ploughshare, 
though, as the wall was ten feet thick, it is hardly surprising 
that he was not successful. The robber, laughing at his 
comrade’s inexperience, showed him a wide chasm which 
his boring instrument had made, and bade him remain there 
while he fetched the spoil. In a very short time he 
returned with as much plunder as he could carry. 

“ Let us get away,” said the Emperor. “ We can carry no 
more.” 

“Nay,” said Elbegast, “but I would return, with your 
permission. In the chamber occupied by Eggerich and 
his wife there is a wonderful caparison, made of gold and 
covered with little bells. I want to prove my skill by 
carrying it off.” 

“ As you will,” was Charlemagne’s laughing response. 
Without a sound Elbegast reached the bedchamber 
of his victim, and was about to raise the caparison 
when he suddenly stumbled and all the bells rang out 
clearly. 

“My sword, my sword!” cried Eggerich, springing up, 
while Elbegast sank back into the shadows. 

“Nay,” said the lady, trying to calm her husband. “You 
did but hear the wind, or perhaps it was an evil dream. 
Thou hast had many evil dreams of late, Eggerich; 
222 


Ingelheim : Charlemagne the Robber 

methinks there is something lies heavily on thy mind. 
Wilt thou not tell thy wife?” 

Elbegast listened intently while with soft words and 
caresses the lady strove to win her husband’s secret. 
“Well,” said Eggerich at last in sullen tones, “we have 
laid a plot, my comrades and I. To-morrow we go to 
Ingelheim, and ere noon Charlemagne shall be slain and 
his lands divided among us.” 

“What!” shrieked the lady. “Murder my brother! 
That will you never while I have strength to warn him.” 
But the villain, with a brutal oath, struck her so fiercely 
in the face that the blood gushed out, and she sank back 
unconscious. 

The robber was not in a position to avenge the cruel act, 
but he crawled nearer the couch and caught some of the 
blood in his gauntlet, for a sign to the Emperor. When 
he was once more outside the castle he told his com¬ 
panion all that had passed and made as though to return. 
“I will strike off his head,” said he. “The Emperor is 
no friend of mine, but I love him still.” 

“ What is the Emperor to us ? ” cried Charlemagne. 
“Are you mad that you risk our lives for the Emperor?” 
The black knight looked at him solemnly. 

“An we had not sworn friendship,” said he, “your life 
should pay for these words. Long live the Emperor! ” 
Charlemagne, secretly delighted with the loyalty of the 
outlawed knight, recommended him to seek the Emperor 
on the morrow and warn him of his danger. But 
Elbegast, fearing the gallows, would not consent to 
this; so his companion promised to do it in his stead 
and meet him afterward in the forest. With that they 
parted, the Emperor returning to his palace, where he 
found all as he had left it. 


223 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

In the morning he hastily summoned his council, told 
them of his dream and subsequent adventures, and of the 
plot against his life. The paladins were filled with horror 
and indignation, and Charlemagne’s secretary suggested 
that it was time preparations were being made for the 
reception of the assassins. Each band of traitors as they 
arrived was seized and cast into a dungeon. Though 
apparently clad as peaceful citizens, they were all found to 
be armed. The last band to arrive was led by Eggerich 
himself. Great was his dismay when he saw his followers 
led off in chains, and angrily he demanded to know the 
reason for such treatment. 

Charlemagne thereupon charged him with treason, and 
Eggerich flung down the gauntlet in defiance. It was 
finally arranged that the Emperor should provide a 
champion to do battle with the traitor, the combat to take 
place at sunrise on the following morning. 

A messenger rode to summon Elbegast, but he had 
much difficulty in convincing the black knight that it 
was not a plot to secure his undoing. 

“ And what would the Emperor with me ? ” he de¬ 
manded of the messenger, as at length they rode 
toward Ingelheim. 

“ To do battle to the death with a deadly foe of our lord 
the Emperor—Eggerich von Eggermond.” 

“ God bless the Emperor! ” exclaimed Elbegast fervently, 
raising his helmet. “ My life is at his service.” 
Charlemagne greeted the knight affectionately and asked 
what he had to tell concerning the conspiracy, whereupon 
Sir Elbegast fearlessly denounced the villainous Eggerich, 
and said he, “ I am ready to prove my assertions upon his 
body.” The challenge was accepted, and at daybreak 
the following morning a fierce combat took place. The 
224 


The Knight & the Yellow Dwarf 

issue, however, was never in doubt: Sir Elbegast was 
victorious, the false Eggerich was slain, and his body- 
hanged on a gibbet fifty feet high. The Emperor now 
revealed himself to the black knight both as his com¬ 
panion-robber and as the messenger who had brought 
him the summons to attend his Emperor. 

Charlemagne’s sister, the widow of Eggerich,he gave to Sir 
Elbegast in marriage, and with her the broad lands which 
had belonged to the vanquished traitor. Thenceforward 
the erstwhile robber and his sovereign were fast friends. 
The place where these strange happenings befell was 
called Ingelheim , in memory of the celestial visitor, and 
Ingelheim it remains to this day. 

The Knight and the Yellow Dwarf 
Elfeld is the principal town of the Rheingau, and in 
ancient times was a Roman station called Alta Villa. In 
the fourteenth century it was raised to the rank of a town 
by Ludwig of Bavaria, and placed under the stewardship 
of the Counts of Elz. 

These Counts of Elz dwelt in the castle by the river’s 
edge, and of one of them, Ferdinand, the following tale is 
told. This knight loved pleasure and wild living, and 
would indulge his whims and passions without regard to 
cost. Before long he found that as a result of his extra¬ 
vagance his possessions had dwindled away almost to 
nothing. He knew himself a poor man, yet his desire for 
pleasure was still unsatisfied. Mortified and angry, he 
hid himself in the castle of Elz and spent his time lament¬ 
ing his poverty and cursing his fate. While in this frame 
of mind the news reached him of a tournament that the 
Emperor purposed holding in celebration of his wedding. 
To this were summoned the chivalry and beauty of 
p 225 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Germany from far and near, and soon knights and ladies 
were journeying to take their part in the tourney, the 
feasting and dancing. 

Ferdinand realized that he was precluded from joining his 
brother nobles and was inconsolable. He became the 
prey of rage and shame, and at last resolved to end a life 
condemned to ignominy. So one day he sought a height 
from which to hurl himself, but ere he could carry out his 
purpose there appeared before him a dwarf, clad in yellow 
from top to toe. With a leer and a laugh he looked up 
at the frantic knight, and asked why the richest noble in 
the land should be seeking death. Something in the 
dwarfs tone caused Ferdinand to listen and suddenly to 
hope for he knew not what miracle. His eyes gleamed 
as the dwarf went on to speak of sacks of gold, and when 
the little creature asked for but a single hair in return 
he laughed aloud and offered him a hundred. But the 
dwarf smiled and shook his head. The noble bowed with 
a polite gesture, and as he bent his head the little man 
reached up and plucked out but one hair, and, lo! a sack of 
gold straightway appeared. At this Ferdinand thought that 
he must be dreaming, but the sack and golden pieces were 
real enough to the touch, albeit the dwarf had vanished. 
Then, in great haste, Ferdinand bought rich and costly 
clothing and armour, also a snow-white steed caparisoned 
with steel and purple trappings, spending on these more 
than twenty sacks of gold, for the dwarf returned to the 
noble many times and on each occasion gave a sack of 
gold in exchange for one hair. At last Ferdinand set 
out for the tournament, where, besides carrying off the 
richest prizes and winning the heart of many a fair lady, 
he attracted the notice of the Emperor, who invited him 
to stay at his court. 

226 


Mainz 

And there the knight resumed his former passions and plea¬ 
sures, living the wildest of lives and thinking no price too 
high for careless enjoyment. And each night, ere the hour 
of twelve finished striking, the yellow dwarf appeared with a 
sack of gold, taking his usual payment of only one hair. 
This wild life now began to tell upon Ferdinand. He fell 
an easy prey to disease, which the doctors could not cure, 
and to the pricks of a late-roused conscience, which no 
priests could soothe. All his wasted past rose before him. 
Day and night his manifold sins appeared before him 
like avenging furies, until at last, frenzied by this double 
torture of mind and body, he called upon the Devil to aid 
him in putting an end to his miserable existence, for so 
helpless was he, he could neither reach nor use a weapon. 
Then at his side appeared once more the dwarf, smiling 
and obliging as usual. He proffered, not a sack of gold 
this time, but a rope of woven hair, the hair which he had 
taken from Ferdinand in exchange for his gold. In the 
morning the miserable noble was found hanging by that rope. 

Mainz 

Mainz, the old Maguntiacum, was the principal fortress 
on the Upper Rhine in Roman times. It was here that 
Crescentius, one of the first preachers of the Christian 
faith on the Rhine, regarded by local tradition as 
the pupil of St. Peter and first Archbishop of Mainz, 
suffered martyrdom in the reign of Trajan in a.d. 103. 
He was a centurion in the Twenty-second Legion, 
which had been engaged under Titus in the destruction 
of Jerusalem, and it is supposed that he preached the 
Gospel in Mainz for thirty-three years before his execu¬ 
tion. Here also it was that the famous vision of Con¬ 
stantine, the cross in the sky, was vouchsafed to the 

227 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Christian conqueror as he went forth to meet the forces 
of Maxentius. The Field of the Holy Cross in the vicinity 
of Mainz is still pointed out as the spot where this miracle 
took place. The city flourished under the Carlovingians, 
and was in a high state of prosperity at the time of Bishop 
Hatto, whose name, as we have seen, has been held up to 
obloquy in many legends. 

During the fourteenth century Mainz shared the power 
and glory of the other cities of the Rhenish Confederation, 
then in the full flush of its heyday. Its cathedral witnesses 
to its aforetime civic splendour. This magnificent build¬ 
ing took upward of four hundred years to complete, and 
its wondrous brazen doors and sumptuous chapels are 
among the finest ecclesiastical treasures of Germany. 

The Fiddler 

In the cathedral of Mainz was an image of the Virgin, on 
whose feet were golden slippers, the gift of some wealthy 
votary. Of this image the following legend is told : 

A poor ragged fiddler had spent the whole of one bitter 
winter morning playing through the dreary streets with¬ 
out any taking pity upon his plight. As he came to the 
cathedral he felt an overmastering desire to enter and 
pour out his distress in the presence of his Maker. So he 
crept in, a tattered and forlorn figure. He prayed aloud, 
chanting his woes in the same tones which he used in the 
street to touch the hearts of the passers-by. 

As he prayed a sense of solitude came upon him, and he 
realized that the shadowy aisles were empty. A sudden 
whim seized him. He would play to the golden-shod 
Virgin and sing her one of his sweetest songs. And 
drawing nearer he lifted his old fiddle to his shoulder, 
and into his playing he put all his longing and pain; his 
228 



The Fiddler and the Statue 


228 


Hiram Ellis 












The Fiddler 

quavering voice grew stronger beneath the stress of his 
fervour. It was as if the springtime had come about him ; 
life was before him, gay and joyful, sorrow and pain were 
unknown. He sank to his knees before the image, and as 
he knelt, suddenly the Virgin lifted her foot and, loosening 
her golden slipper, cast it into the old man’s ragged bosom, 
as if giving alms for his music. 

The poor old man, astounded at the miracle, told himself 
that the Blessed Virgin knew how to pay a poor devil who 
amused her. Overcome by gratitude, he thanked the 
giver with all his heart. 

He would fain have kept the treasure, but he was starving, 
and it seemed to have been given him to relieve his dis¬ 
tress. He hurried out to the market and went into a 
goldsmith’s shop to offer his prize. But the man recog¬ 
nized it at once. Then was the poor old fiddler worse off 
than before, for now he was charged with the dreadful 
crime of sacrilege. The old man told the story of the 
miracle over and over again, but he was laughed at for 
an impudent liar. He must not hope, they told him, for 
anything but death, and in the short space of one hour he 
was tried and condemned and on his way to execution. 
The place of death was just opposite the great bronze 
doors of the cathedral which sheltered the Virgin. “ If I 
must die,” said the fiddler, “ I would sing one song to my 
old fiddle at the feet of the Virgin and pray one prayer 
before her. I ask this in her blessed name, and you cannot 
refuse me.” 

They could not deny the prisoner a dying prayer, and, closely 
guarded, the tattered figure once more entered the cathedral 
which had been so disastrous to him. He approached 
the altar of the Virgin, his eyes filling with tears as again 
he held his old fiddle in his hands. Then he played and 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

sang as before, and again a breath as of springtime stole 
into the shadowy cathedral and life seemed glad and 
beautiful. When the music ceased, again the Virgin 
lifted a foot and softly she flung her other slipper into the 
fiddler’s bosom, before the astonished gaze of the guards. 
Everyone there saw the miracle and could not but testify 
to the truth of the old man’s former statement; he was at 
once freed from his bonds and carried before the city 
fathers, who ordered his release. 

And it is said that, in memory of the miracle of the 
Virgin, the priests provided for the old fiddler for the 
rest of his days. In return for this the old man sur¬ 
rendered the golden slippers, which, it is also said, the 
reverend fathers carefully locked away in the treasure- 
chest, lest the Virgin should again be tempted to such 
extravagant almsgiving. 

The Maiden's Leap 

Once in the Hardt Mountains there dwelt a giant wnose 
fortress commanded a wide view of the surrounding 
country. Near by, a lovely lady, as daring in the hunt 
as she was skilful at spinning, inhabited an abandoned 
castle. One day the twain chanced to meet, and the giant 
thereupon resolved to possess the beauteous damsel. 

So he sent his servant to win her with jewels, but 
the deceitful fellow intended to hide the treasures in a 
forest. 

There he met a young man musing in a disconsolate 
attitude, who confided that poverty alone kept him from 
avowing how passionately he adored his sweetheart. 

The shrewd messenger realized that this rustic’s charmer 
was the same fair lady who had beguiled his master’s 
soul. He solicited the youth’s aid in burying the treasures 
230 


The Maiden’s Leap 

promising him a share in the spoil sufficient to enable him 
to wed his beloved. 

In a solitary spot they dug a deep hole, when suddenly 
the robber assailed his companion, who thrust him aside 
with great violence. In his rage the youth was about to 
stab the wretch, when he craved pardon, promising to 
reveal a secret of more value than the jewels he had 
intended to conceal. 

The youth stayed his hand, and the servant related how 
his master, for love of the pretty mistress of the castle, 
had sent him to gain her favour. 

Conscious of his worth, the ardent youth scornfully declared 
that he feared no rival, then, seizing half of the treasure, 
he left the wretch to his own devices. 

Meanwhile the giant impatiently awaited his servant’s 
return. At length, tired of waiting, he decided to visit 
the lady and declare in person his passion for her. Upon 
his arrival at the castle the maid announced him, and it 
was with a secret feeling of dread that the lady went to 
meet her unwelcome visitor. More than ever captivated 
by her charms, the giant asked the fair maid to become 
his wife. On being refused, he threatened to kill her and 
demolish the castle. 

The poor lady was terrified and she tearfully implored 
the giant’s mercy, promising to bestow all her treasure 
upon him. Her maids, too, begged him to spare their 
mistress’s life, but he only laughed as they knelt before 
him. Ultimately the hapless maiden consented to marry 
her inexorable wooer, but she attached a novel condition: 
she would ride a race with her relentless suitor, and should 
he overtake her she would accompany him to his castle. 
But the resolute maiden had secretly vowed to die rather 
than submit to such degradation. Choosing her fleetest 

231 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

steed, she vaulted nimbly into the saddle and galloped 
away. Her persecutor pursued close behind, straining 
every nerve to come up with her. Shuddering at the 
very thought of becoming his bride, she chose death as 
the only alternative, So she spurred her horse onward to 
the edge of a deep chasm. 

The noble animal neighed loudly as though conscious of 
impending danger. The pursuer laughed grimly as he 
thought to seize his prize, but his laughter was turned to 
rage when the horse with its fair burden bounded lightly 
across the chasm, landing safely on the other side. 

The enraged tyrant now beheld his intended victim 
kneeling in prayer and her steed calmly grazing among 
the green verdure by her side. He strode furiously hither 
and thither, searching for a crossing, and suddenly a shout 
of joy told the affrighted maid that he had discovered some 
passage. 

His satisfaction, however, was short-lived, for just then a 
strange knight with drawn sword rushed upon the giant. 
The maid watched the contest with breathless fear, and 
many times she thought that the tyrant would slay her 
protector. At last in one such moment the giant stooped 
to clutch a huge boulder with which he meant to over¬ 
whelm his adversary, when, overreaching himself, he 
slipped and fell headlong down the steep rocks. 

Then the maid hastened to thank her rescuer, and great 
was her surprise to discover in the gallant knight the 
youth whose former poverty had kept him from wooing 
her. They returned to the castle together, and it was not 
long ere they celebrated their wedding. 

Both lived long and happily, and their union was blessed 
with many children. The rock is still known as “The 
Maiden’s Leap.” 

232 


The Wonderful Road 


The Wonderful Road 

Near Homburg, on the pinnacle of a lofty mountain, are 
the ruins of Falkenstein Castle, access to which is gained 
by a steep, winding path. 

Within the castle walls there once dwelt a maiden of 
surpassing beauty. Many suitors climbed the stern 
acclivity to woo this charming damsel, but her stern 
father repelled one and all. Only Kuno of Sayn was 
firm enough to persevere in his suit against the rebuffs of 
the stubborn Lord of Falkenstein, and in the end he was 
rewarded with the smiles and kind looks of the fair 
maid. 

One evening, as they watched the sun set, Kuno pointed 
out to the maiden where his own castle was situated. 
The beauty of the landscape beneath them made its appeal 
to their souls, their hands touched and clasped, and their 
hearts throbbed with the passion felt by both. A few 
days later Kuno climbed the steep path, resolved to 
declare his love to the damsel’s father. Fatigued with 
the ascent, he rested for a brief space at the entrance to 
the castle ere mounting to the tower. 

The Lord of Falkenstein and his daughter had beheld 
Kuno’s journey up the rugged path from the windows of 
the tower, and the father demanded for what purpose 
he had come thither. With a passionate glance at the 
blushing maid, the knight of Sayn declared that he had 
come to ask the noble lord for his daughter’s hand in 
marriage. After meditating on the knight’s proposal 
for some time, the Lord of Falkenstein pretended to be 
willing to give his consent—but he attached a condition. 
“ I desire a carriage-drive to be made from the lowland 
beneath to the gate of my castle, and if you can accom- 

233 


Hero Tales «if Legends of the Rhine 

plish this my daughter’s hand is yours—but the feat must 
be achieved by to-morrow morning l 99 
The knight protested that such a task was utterly impos¬ 
sible for anyone to perform, even in a month, but all to no 
purpose. He then resolved to seek some way whereby he 
could outwit the stubborn lord, for he would not willingly 
resign his lady-love. He left the tower, vowing to do his 
utmost to perform the seemingly impossible task, and as 
he descended the rocky declivity his beloved waved her 
handkerchief to encourage him. 

Now Kuno of Sayn possessed both copper and silver 
mines, and arriving at his castle he summoned his over¬ 
seer. The knight explained the nature of the task which 
he desired to be undertaken, but the overseer declared 
that all his miners, working day and night, could not 
make the roadway within many months. 

Dismayed, Kuno left his castle and wandered into a dense 
forest, driven thither by his perturbed condition. Night 
cast dusky shadows over the foliage, and the perplexed 
lover cursed the obstinate Lord of Falkenstein as he forced 
his way through the undergrowth. 

Suddenly an old man of strange and wild appearance 
stood in his path. Kuno at once knew him for an earth- 
spirit, one of those mysterious guardians of the treasures 
of the soil who are jealous of the incursion of mankind 
into their domain. 

“ Kuno of Sayn,” he said, “do you desire to outwit 
the Lord of Falkenstein and win his beauteous 
daughter ? ” 

Although startled and taken aback by the strange appari¬ 
tion, Kuno hearkened eagerly to its words as showing an 
avenue of escape from the dilemma in which he found 
himself, 

234 


The Wonderful Road 

“Assuredly Ido,” he replied, “but how do you propose 
I should accomplish it ? ” 

“ Cease to persecute me and my brethren, Kuno, and we 
shall help you to realize your wishes,” was the reply. 

“ Persecute you ! ” exclaimed Kuno. “ In what manner 
do I trouble you at all, strange being?” 

“You have opened up a silver mine in our domain,” said 
the earth-spirit, “ and as you work it both morning and 
afternoon we have but little opportunity for repose. How, 
I ask you, can we slumber when your men keep knocking 
on the partitions of our house with their picks ? ” 

“What, then, would you have, my worthy friend ? ” asked 
Kuno, scarcely able to suppress a smile at the wistful way 
in which the gnome made his complaint. “ Tell me, I pray 
you, how I can oblige you.” 

“ By instructing your miners to work in the mine during 
the hours of morning only,” replied the gnome. “ By so 
doing I and my brothers will obtain the rest we so much 
require.” 

“ It shall be as you say,” said Kuno; “you have my word 
for it, good friend.” 

“ In that case,” said the earth-spirit, “ we shall assist you 
in turn. Go to the castle of Falkenstein after dawn 
to-morrow morning, and you shall witness the result of 
our friendship and gratitude.” 

Next morning the sun had scarcely risen when Kuno 
saddled his steed and hied him to the heights of Falken¬ 
stein. The gnome had kept his word. There, above and 
in front of him, he beheld a wide and lofty roadway leading 
to the castle-gate from the thoroughfare below. With joy 
in his heart he set spurs to his horse and dashed up the 
steep but smooth acclivity. At the gate he encountered 
the old Lord of Falkenstein and his daughter, who had 

235 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

been apprised of the miracle that had happened and had 
come out to view the new roadway. The knight of Sayn 
related his adventure with the earth-spirit, upon which the 
Lord of Falkenstein told him how a terrible thunderstorm 
mingled with unearthly noises had raged throughout the 
night. Terrified, he and his daughter had spent the hours 
of darkness in prayer, until with the approach of dawn 
some of the servitors had plucked up courage and 
ventured forth, when the wonderful avenue up the side 
of the mountain met their startled gaze. 

Kuno and his lady-love were duly united. Indeed, so 
terrified was the old lord by the supernatural manifesta¬ 
tions of the dreadful night he had just passed through 
that he was incapable of further resistance to the wishes 
of the young people. The wonderful road is still to be 
seen, and is marvelled at by all who pass that way. 

Osric the Lion 

Other tales besides the foregoing have their scene laid in 
the castle of Falkenstein, notable among them being the 
legend of Osric the Lion, embodied in the following weird 
ballad from the pen of Monk Lewis: 

Swift roll the Rhine’s billows, and water the plains, 

Where Falkenstein Castle’s majestic remains 
Their moss-covered turrets still rear: 

Oft loves the gaunt wolf ’midst the ruins to prowl, 

What time from the battlements pours the lone owl 
Her plaints in the passenger’s ear. 

No longer resound through the vaults of yon hall 
The song of the minstrel, and mirth of the ball; 

Those pleasures for ever are fled : 

There now dwells the bat with her light-shunning brood, 

There ravens and vultures now clamour for food, 

And all is dark, silent, and dread ! 


236 


Osric the Lion 

Ha ! dost thou not see, by the moon’s trembling light 
Directing his steps, where advances a knight, 

His eye big with vengeance and fate ? 

’Tis Osric the Lion his nephew who leads, 

And swift up the crackling old staircase proceeds, 

Gains the hall, and quick closes the gate. 

Now round him young Carloman, casting his eyes, 
Surveys the sad scene with dismay and surprise, 

And fear steals the rose from his cheeks. 

His spirits forsake him, his courage is flown ; 

The hand of Sir Osric he clasps m his own, 

And while his voice falters he speaks. 

“ Dear uncle,” he murmurs, “ why linger we here ? 

’Tis late, and these chambers are damp and are drear, 
Keen blows through the ruins the blast! 

Oh ! let us away and our journey pursue : 

Fair Blumenberg’s Castle will rise on our view, 

Soon as Falkenstein forest be passed. 

“ Why roll thus your eyeballs ? why glare they so wild ? 
Oh ! chide not my weakness, nor frown, that a child 
Should view these apartments with dread; 

For know that full oft have I heard from my nurse, 
There still on this castle has rested a curse, 

Since innocent blood here was shed. 

“ She said, too, bad spirits, and ghosts all in white, 
Here used to resort at the dead time of night, 

Nor vanish till breaking of day ; 

And still at their coming is heard the deep tone 
Of a bell loud and awful—hark ! hark ! ’twas a groan ! 
Good uncle, oh ! let us away ! ” 

“ Peace, serpent! ” thus Osric the Lion replies, 

While rage and malignity gloom in his eyes; 

“ Thy journey and life here must close : 

Thy castle’s proud turrets no more shalt thou see; 

No more betwixt Blumenberg’s lordship and me 
Shalt thou stand, and my greatness oppose. 

“ My brother lies breathless on Palestine’s plains, 

And thou once removed, to his noble domains 
My right can no rival deny : 

Then, stripling, prepare on my dagger to bleed; 

No succour is near, and thy fate is decreed, 

Commend thee to Jesus a*id die ! ” 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Thus saying, he seizes the boy by the arm, 

Whose grief rends the vaulted hall’s roof, while alarm 
His heart of all fortitude robs ; 

His limbs sink beneath him; distracted with fears, 

He falls at his uncle’s feet, bathes them with tears, 

And “ Spare me ! oh, spare me ! ” he sobs. 

But vainly the miscreant he strives to appease; 

And vainly he clings in despair round his knees, 

And sues in soft accents for life; 

Unmoved by his sorrow, unmoved by his prayer, 

Fierce Osric has twisted his hand in his hair, 

And aims at his bosom a' knife. 

But ere the steel blushes with blood, strange to tell! 
Self-struck, does the tongue of the hollow-toned bell 
The presence of midnight declare : 

And while with amazement his hair bristles high, 

Hears Osric a voice, loud and terrible, cry, 

In sounds heart-appalling, “ Forbear ! ” 

Straight curses and shrieks through the chambers resound, 
Shrieks mingled with laughter; the walls shake around ; 

The groaning roof threatens to fall; 

Loud bellows the thunder, blue lightnings still flash ; 

The casements they clatter; chains rattle ; doors clash, 

And flames spread their waves through the hall. 

The clamour increases, the portals expand! 

O’er the pavement’s black marble now rushes a band 
Of demons, all dropping with gore, 

In visage so grim, and so monstrous in height, 

That Carloman screams, as they burst on his sight, 

And sinks without sense on the floor. 

Not so his fell uncle :—he sees that the throng 
Impels, wildly shrieking, a female along, 

And well the sad spectre he knows! 

The demons with curses her steps onwards urge; 

Her shoulders, with whips formed of serpents, they scourge, 
And fast from her wounds the blood flows. 

“ Oh ! welcome ! ” she cried, and her voice spoke despair; 

“ Oh ! welcome, Sir Osric, the torments to share, 

Of which thou hast made me the prey. 

Twelve years have I languished thy coming to see; 

Ulrilda, who perished dishonoured by thee 
Now calls thee to anguish away ! 


The Conference of the Dead 

“ Thy passion once sated, thy love became hate; 

Thy hand gave the draught which consigned me to fate, 

Nor thought I death lurked in the bowl: 

Unfit for the grave, stained with lust, swelled with pride 
Unblessed, unabsolved, unrepenting, I died, 

And demons straight seized on my soul. 

“ Thou com’st, and with transport I feel my breast swell: 

Full long have I suffered the torments of hell, 

And now shall its pleasures be mine ! 

See, see, how the fiends are athirst for thy blood! 

Twelve years has my panting heart furnished their food. 

Come, wretch, let them feast upon thine ! ” 

She said, and the demons their prey flocked around; 

They dashed him, with horrible yell, on the ground, 

And blood down his limbs trickled fast \ 

His eyes from their sockets with fury they tore ; 

They fed on his entrails, all reeking with gore, 

And his heart was Ulrilda’s repast. 

But now the grey cock told the coming of day ! 

The fiends with their victim straight vanished away, 

And Carloman’s heart throbbed again; 

With terror recalling the deeds of the night, 

He rose, and from Falkenstein speeding his flight, 

Soon reached his paternal domain. 

Since then, all with horror the ruins behold; 

No shepherd, though strayed be a lamb from his fold, 

No mother, though lost be her child, 

The fugitive dares in these chambers to seek, 

Where fiends nightly revel, and guilty ghosts shriek 
In accents most fearful and wild ! 

Oh ! shun them, ye pilgrims ! though late be the hour, 

Though loud howl the tempest, and fast fall the shower ; 

From Falkenstein Castle begone! 

There still their sad banquet hell’s denizens share; 

There Osric the Lion still raves in despair : 

Breathe a prayer for his soul, and pass on ! 

The Conference of the Dead 

A legend of later date than most of the Rhineland tales, 
but still of sufficient interest to merit inclusion among 

239 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

these, is that which attaches to the palace of Biberich. 
Biberich lies on the right bank of the river, not very far 
from Mainz, and its palace was built at the beginning of 
the eighteenth century by George Augustus, Duke of 
Nassau. 

The legend states that not long after the erection of the 
palace a Duchess of Nassau died there, and lay in state as 
befitted her rank in a room hung with black velvet and 
lighted with the glimmer of many tapers. 

Outside in the great hall a captain and forty-nine men of 
the Duke’s bodyguard kept watch over the chamber of 
death. 

It was midnight. The captain of the guard, weary with 
his vigil, had gone to the door of the palace for a breath 
of air. Just as the last stroke of the hour died away he 
beheld the approach of a chariot, drawn by six magnificent 
coal-black horses, which, to his amazement, drew up before 
the palace. A lady, veiled and clad in white, alighted 
and made as though she would enter the building. But 
the captain barred the way and challenged the bold 
intruder. 

c< Who are you,” he said sternly, “ who seek to enter 
the palace at this hour? My orders are to let none 
pass.” 

“ I was first lady of the bedchamber to our late Duchess,” 
replied the lady in cold, imperious tones ; “therefore I 
demand the right of entrance.” 

As she spoke she flung aside her veil, and the captain, 
instantly recognizing her, permitted her to enter the palace 
without further hindrance. 

“ What can she want here at this time of night ? ” he said 
to his lieutenant, when the lady had passed into the death- 
chamber. 

240 


The Conference of the Dead 

“ Who can say?” replied the lieutenant. “Unless, per¬ 
chance,” he mused, “we were to look.” 

The captain took the hint, crept softly to the keyhole, and 
applied his eye thereto. “ Ha ! ” he said, shrinking back 
in amazement and terror, and beckoning to his lieutenant. 
“ In Satan’s name what have we here ? ” 

The lieutenant hastened to the chamber door, full of 
alarm and curiosity. Putting his eye to the keyhole, he 
also ejaculated, turned pale, and trembled. One by one 
the soldiers of the guard followed their officers’ example, 
like them to retreat with exclamations of horror. And 
little wonder ; for they perceived the dead Duchess sitting 
up in bed, moving her pale lips as though in conversation, 
while by her side stood the lady of the bedchamber, pale 
as she, and clad in grave-clothes. For a time the ghastly 
conversation continued, no words being audible to the 
terror-stricken guard; but from time to time a hollow 
sound reached them, like the murmur of distant thunder. 
At length the visitor emerged from the chamber, and 
returned to her waiting coach. Duty, rather than inclina¬ 
tion, obliged the gallant captain to hand her into her 
carriage, and this task he performed with praiseworthy 
politeness, though his heart sank within him at the touch 
of her icy fingers, and his tongue refused to return the 
adieu her pale lips uttered. With a flourish of whips the 
chariot set off. Sparks flew from the hoofs of the horses, 
smoke and flame burst from their nostrils, and such was 
their speed that in a moment they were lost to sight. The 
captain, sorely puzzled by the events of the night, returned 
to his men, who were huddled together at the end of the 
hall furthest from the death-chamber. 

On the morrow, ere the guard had had time to inform the 
Duke of these strange happenings, news reached the 
Q 241 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

palace that the first lady of the bedchamber had died on 
the previous night at twelve o’clock. It was supposed 
that sorrow for her mistress had caused her death. 

Eppstein 

Of the castle of Eppstein, whose ruins still remain in a 
valley of the Taunus Mountains, north of Biberich, the 
following curious story is told. 

Sir Eppo, a brave and chivalrous knight—and a wealthy 
one to boot, as were his successors of Eppstein for many 
generations—was one day hunting in the forest, when he 
became separated from his attendants and lost his way. 
In the heat of the chase his sense of direction had failed 
him, and though he sounded his bugle loud and long 
there was no reply. 

Tired out at length with wandering hither and thither, 
he rested himself in a pleasant glade, and was surprised 
and charmed to hear a woman’s voice singing a mournful 
melody in soft, clear tones. It was a sheer delight to 
Sir Eppo to listen to a voice of such exquisite purity, yet 
admiration was not the only feeling it roused in his breast. 
There was a note of sadness and appeal in the song, and 
what were knighthood worth if it heeded not the voice 
of fair lady in distress ? Sir Eppo sprang to his feet, 
forgetting his own plight in the ardour of chivalry, and 
set off in the direction from which the voice seemed to 
come. The way was difficult, and he had to cut a passage 
with his sword through the dense thicket that separated 
him from the singer. At length, guided by the melancholy 
notes, he arrived before a grotto, in which he beheld a 
maiden of surpassing beauty, but of sorrowful mien. 
When she saw the handsome knight gazing at her with 
mingled surprise and admiration she ceased her song and 
242 


EPPSTEIN 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 
Facing page 242 











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Eppstein 

implored his aid. A cruel giant, she said, had seized her 
and brought her thither. At the moment he was asleep, 
but he had tied her to a rock so that she might not 
escape. 

Her beauty and grace, her childlike innocence, her piteous 
plight, moved Sir Eppo strangely. First pity, then a 
stronger emotion dawned in his breast. He severed her 
bonds with a stroke of his keen falchion. 

“What can I do to aid thee, gentle maiden?” he said. 
“You have but to command me; henceforth I am thy 
knight, to do battle for thee.” 

The damsel blushed at the courteous words, but she lifted 
her eyes bravely to the champion who had so unexpectedly 
appeared to protect her. 

“ Return to my castle,” she said, “ and there thou wilt find 
a consecrated net. Bring it hither. If I lay it upon the 
giant he will become as weak as a babe and will be easily 
overcome.” 

Eagerly the young knight obeyed the command, and 
having found the net according to the damsel’s directions, 
he made all haste to return. At the grotto he paused and 
hid himself, for the strident voice of the giant could be 
heard within. Presently the monster emerged, and de¬ 
parted in search of reeds wherewith to make a pipe. No 
sooner had he disappeared than the maiden issued from 
the grotto, and Sir Eppo came out of his concealment and 
gave her the consecrated net. She spoke a few words of 
heartfelt gratitude, and then hurried with her treasure to 
the top of the mountain, where she knew the giant had 
intended to go. 

Arrived at her destination, she laid down the net and 
covered it with moss, leaves, and sweet-smelling herbs. 
While engaged in her task the giant came up, and the 

2 43 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

damsel smilingly told him that she was preparing a couch 
whereon he might take some rest. Gratified at her solici¬ 
tude, he stretched himself unsuspectingly on the fragrant 
pile. In a moment the damsel, uttering the name of the 
Trinity, threw a portion of the net over him, so that he 
was completely enveloped. Immediately there arose such 
loud oaths and lamentations that the damsel ran in terror 
to the knight, who had now come upon the scene. 

“ Let us fly,” she said, “ lest he should escape and 
pursue us.” 

But Sir Eppo strode to the place where the howling 
monster lay entangled in the net, and with a mighty 
effort rolled him over a steep precipice, where he was 
instantly killed. 

The story ends happily, for Sir Eppo and the maiden he 
had rescued were married soon after; and on the spot 
where they had first met was raised the castle of Epp- 
stein. It is said that the bones of the giant may still be 
seen there. 

Florsheim : The Shepherd Knight 
In the now ruined castle of Wilenstein, overlooking the 
wooded heights of the Westrich, dwelt Sir Bodo of Flor¬ 
sheim and his fair daughter Adeline. The maiden’s beauty, 
no less than her father’s wealth, attracted suitors in plenty 
from the neighbouring strongholds, but the spirit of love 
had not yet awakened in her bosom and each and all were 
repulsed with disconcerting coldness and indifference, and 
they left the schloss vowing that the lovely Adeline was 
utterly heartless. 

One day there came to Sir Bodo a youth of pleasing 
manners and appearance, picturesquely clad in rustic garb, 
who begged that he might enter the knight’s service in 
244 


Florsheim : The Shepherd Knight 

the capacity of shepherd. Though he hinted that he was 
of noble birth, prevented by circumstances from revealing 
his identity, yet he based his request solely on his merits 
as a tender of flocks and herds, and as Sir Bodo found 
that he knew his work well and that his intelligence was 
beyond question, he gave him the desired post. As time 
went on Sir Bodo saw no reason to regret his action, for 
his flocks and herds prospered as they had never done 
before, and none but good reports reached him concerning 
his servant. 

Meantime Adeline heard constant references to Otto (as 
the shepherd was called) both from her father and her 
waiting-women. The former praised his industry and 
abilities, while the latter spoke of his handsome looks and 
melancholy air, his distinction and good breeding, and 
the mystery which surrounded his identity. All this 
excited the maiden’s curiosity, and her pity was aroused 
as well, for it seemed that the stranger had a secret grief, 
which sometimes found vent in tears when he thought 
himself unobserved. 

Adeline saw him for the first time one afternoon while she 
was walking in the castle grounds. At sight of her he 
paused as though spell-bound, and the maiden blushed 
under his earnest scrutiny. A moment later, however, he 
recovered himself, and courteously asked her pardon for 
his seeming rudeness. 

“ Forgive me, fair lady,” said he; “ it seemed that I saw 
a ghost in your sweet face.” 

Adeline, who had recognized him from the descriptions 
she had received, now made herself known to him, and 
graciously granted him permission to walk with her to 
the castle. His offence was readily pardoned when he 
declared that the cause of it was a fancied resemblance 

245 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

between Adeline and a dear sister whom death had lately 
robbed him of. Ere they parted the young people were 
already deeply in love with one another, and had promised 
to meet again on the following day. The spot where they 
had first encountered each other became a trysting-place 
which was daily hallowed by fresh vows and declarations. 
On one such occasion Otto told his beloved the story of 
his early life and revealed to her his identity. It was 
indeed a harrowing tale, and one which drew a full meed 
of sympathy from the maiden. 

Otto and his sister—she whose likeness in Adeline’s face 
had first arrested his attention—had been brought up by 
a cruel stepfather, who had treated them so brutally that 
Otto was at length forced to flee to the castle of an uncle, 
who received him kindly and gave him an education 
befitting his knightly station. A few years later he had 
returned home, to find his sister dead—slain by the ill- 
treatment of her stepfather, who, it was even said, had 
hastened her death with poison. Otto, overcome with 
grief, confronted her murderer, heaped abuse on his 
head, and demanded his share of the property. The only 
answer was a sneer, and the youth, maddened with grief 
and indignation, drew his sword and plunged it in his 
tormentor’s heart. A moment later he saw the probable 
consequences of his hasty action, concealed himself in the 
woods, and thenceforth became a fugitive, renounced 
even by his own uncle, and obliged to remain in hiding 
in order to escape certain death at the hands of the 
murdered man’s kindred. In a fortunate moment he had 
chanced to reach Florsheim, where, in his shepherd’s 
guise, he judged himself secure. 

Adeline, deeply moved by the tale, sought to put her sym¬ 
pathy in the practical form of advice. 

246 


Florsheim : The Shepherd Knight 

“ Dear Otto,” she said, “let us go to my father and tell 
him all. We must dispatch an embassy to your uncle 
in Thuringen, to see whether he may not consent to a 
division of the property. Take courage, and your rightful 
position may yet be assured.” 

So it was arranged that on the following day the lovers 
should seek Sir Bodo and ask his advice in the matter. 
But alas! ere their plans could be carried out Bodo him¬ 
self sent for his daughter and informed her that he had 
chosen a husband for her, Sir Siegebert, a wealthy and 
noble knight, just returned from Palestine. 

In vain Adeline wept and implored. Her father remained 
adamant, and at last lost his temper and confined her 
within strict bounds till she should consent to the 
marriage. Sir Siegebert was but ill pleased with her 
pale cheeks and haggard eyes and her obvious distaste 
for his society; and seeing this, Bodo was more than 
ever wroth, and swore to send her to a nunnery if she did 
not greet her lover with a better face. 

Day after day Otto waited at the trysting-place, yet his 
mistress did not appear, nor did she send him any message. 
He was filled with anguish at the thought that her ardent 
vows were forgotten, and wandered through the woods 
like one distraught, seeking solace and finding none. At 
length news reached him that on the morrow his beloved 
was to wed with the knight Siegebert, and his last shred 
of hope vanished. He made his way to a bridge where 
he had often watched for Adeline’s coming, and with a 
prayer flung himself into the turbid stream beneath. 
Meanwhile the unceasing cruelty to which Adeline had 
been subjected had reduced her to a state of terrified 
submission, so that, scarce knowing what she did, she 
consented to wed Siegebert. At length all was in readiness 

247 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

for the ceremony; the bells were ringing gaily, the feast was 
spread, and the bride arrayed in her wedding dress. Unseen 
she slipped out by a little postern gate and made her way 
quickly to the hut of her shepherd. Alas ! it stood empty. 
In despair she ran hither and thither, calling his name in 
anguished accents. Suddenly she espied some shepherds 
endeavouring to draw something out of the water. A 
strange instinct told her the truth, and she crept closer to 
the little group. One glance sufficed to show her that it 
was her lover’s corpse which was being taken ashore. No 
need to ask how he had perished, or why! With a wild 
cry she flung herself into the stream where Otto had met 
his death, and was speedily overwhelmed. 

The bridal party sought high and low for the bride, but 
she was nowhere to be seen. Bodo loudly vented his 
indignation at his daughter’s rebelliousness, but his anger 
was changed to mourning when the body of the drowned 
maiden was washed ashore a few days later. Too late 
he repented him of his rash folly. All his lamentations 
could not restore poor Adeline to life. He caused the 
lovers to be buried together, and spent the remainder of 
his days in prayer and penitence. 

Frankfort 

Frankfort, the castle of the Franks, was, it is said, 
founded by Charlemagne at the time of the overthrow 
of the pagan Saxons, which has already been recorded 
in the Song of the Saxons. Here Charlemagne was led 
across the Rhine by deer, escaping with his army from 
certain slaughter at the hands of the savage horde who 
sought to ambush him. Other picturesque stories cluster 
round the city, the best of which are the following. 


248 


The Poacher of Frankfort 


The Poacher of Frankfort 

In the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main stands a five-pointed 
tower, and in the midst of one of these points is a vane 
containing nine round holes, forming the figure 9. The 
origin of this figure is as follows : 

A notorious poacher lay in the tower condemned to death 
for numerous offences against the stringent game-laws of 
the country. He awaited his end in silence, and sat 
moodily unobservant of the bright rays of the sun which 
poured into his cell through the grated window. Others, 
he pondered, were basking in the joyous light outside 
yonder in the verdant summer fields, whilst he, who 
even now felt the noose tighten round his neck, was 
plunged in semi-darkness. Well, as darkness was to be 
his element, he might as well make present use of it for 
its special purpose—to aid sleep; especially as sleep 
would remove him for the time being from gloomy con¬ 
templation upon his approaching end. 

As he slept a pleasant smile took the place of the sombre 
expression natural to his waking moments. But on a 
sudden he started in his slumber, grating his teeth, his 
face transformed with violent rage. 

“ Ha, villain, that was a trap,” he muttered, but almost 
immediately his countenance resumed the sad expression 
which had lately become habitual to it. In the course of 
a few moments, however, this gave way to a look of 
resolution and conscious strength, and even in sleep he 
appeared to have made up his mind unalterably upon 
some matter of importance. 

At this juncture the turnkey entered the cell, accompanied 
by two officials, one of whom read to him a missive from 
those in authority which stated that a petition for mercy 

249 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

which he had made could not be entertained, and that he 
must suffer the extreme penalty of the law. 

“ I protest against such a sentence,” cried the poacher, 
“ for, after all, I have only killed those animals which 
were given us by God for our common use. Would you 
forfeit the life of a man because he has slain the beasts of 
chase? ” 

“ That is not the only charge against you,” retorted one 
of the officials harshly. “Your comrades, as well as the 
honourable Company of Foresters, accuse you of being in 
league with the enemy of mankind, and of procuring from 
him charmed bullets.” 

The poacher laughed. “ It is false,” he cried. “ They 
are jealous because I am such a good shot. Provide me 
with a gun and with powder and shot blessed by a priest, 
and I will undertake to place through the vane of this 
tower nine shots which shall form the figure 9.” 

“Such an opportunity shall be afforded you,” said one of 
the officials, who had not as yet spoken. “ It would be 
an injustice not to give you such a chance, especially as, 
if you are successful, you will remove the most odious 
portion of the charge against you.” 

The news of the poacher’s challenge spread quickly 
through Frankfort, and even the foresters who had given 
evidence against him were so impressed that they forced 
their way into the council and insisted that, should he 
be successful, a free pardon should be granted to him. 
To this the council agreed, and an intimation of the deci¬ 
sion was conveyed to the poacher. But he was assured 
that if one bullet missed its mark he would certainly die. 
To this he agreed, and the succeeding day was fixed for 
the trial of skill. At an early hour the square in which 
the tower was situated was thronged by an immense 
250 


The Knave of Bergen 

crowd. The walls of the city, of which the tower was a 
part, were thronged by members of the Foresters’ Guild. 
Soon the prisoner was led forth, and was publicly 
admonished by a monk not to tempt God if his skill had 
its origin in diabolic agencies. But to all such exhorta¬ 
tions the poacher replied: “ Fear not, I will write my 
answer upon yonder tower.” 

The master of the Foresters’ Guild loaded the gun and 
handed it to him. Amidst a deep silence he aimed at the 
vane and fired. The shot found its mark. Once more 
he fired. Again the vane swung round, and another hole 
appeared therein. The crowd vented its feelings by loud 
huzzahs. Nine times did he fire, and nine times did the 
bullet hit its mark. And as the last bullet sang through 
the weather-cock the figure 9 showed clearly therein, 
and the poacher, sinking to his knees, bared his head 
and gave thanks for his life to God. All there, also, 
bared their heads and accompanied him in his thanks- 
giving. 

That night, loaded with gifts, he quitted Frankfort, never¬ 
more to return. But the vane on the tower remains there 
to this day as a witness of his prowess with the long rifle. 

The Knave of Bergen 

The city of Frankfort was once the scene of a great 
coronation festival, during the course of which a bal 
masqui was given by the King and Queen to a brilliant 
assembly of high-born ladies and nobles. The knights 
and princes in their fancy costumes were hardly less 
resplendent than the ladies in their jewels and brocaded 
silks, and the masks they all wore added to the excite¬ 
ment and gaiety of the scene. In all the gathering there 
was but one sombre note—a knight in coal-black armour, 

25 * 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

visored, of great stature and stately in motion. His grace¬ 
ful mien won the admiration of the ladies and the envy of 
the gallants, and the question of his identity excited much 
speculation. 

With courtly air the Black Knight approached the Queen, 
knelt before her, and begged that she would deign to be 
his partner in the dance. The charm of his voice and 
the modest yet dignified manner in which he proffered his 
request so touched the Queen that she stepped down from 
the dais and joined in the waltz. Never had she known 
a dancer with a lighter step or a more delightful gift of 
^conversation. When that dance was over she granted 
him another and yet another, till the company became 
very curious to know who the gallant knight might be on 
whom the Queen bestowed her favours with such a lavish 
hand. At last the time came for the guests to unmask, 
and the dancers made themselves known to each other— 
with one exception, that is, for the Black Knight refused 
to lift his visor. The King and Queen, however, shared 
to the full the curiosity of their guests as to the identity 
of their strange guest, and they commanded him to uncover 
his face, whereupon the knight raised his visor, though with 
some reluctance. Neither the royal hosts nor any of the 
noble guests recognized him, but a moment later two 
officials of the Court advanced and to the astonishment 
and indignation of the company declared that the stranger 
was no other than the executioner of Bergen ! The King’s 
wrath knew no bounds. He commanded that the knave 
should be seized and put to death immediately. To think 
that he had allowed the Queen to dance with a common 
executioner ! The bare idea was intolerable ! 

The knave fell humbly on his knees before his irate 
sovereign. 

252 


Darmstadt : The Proxy 

“ I acknowledge my crime, sire,” he said, “ but your 
Majesty must be aware that even my death would not 
be sufficient to wipe out my disgrace, and the disgrace of 
her Majesty, who has danced with an executioner. There 
is one other way to efface my guilt and to wipe out the 
humiliation of your Majesty’s gracious consort. You 
must make a knight of me, sire, and I will challenge 
to mortal combat any who dares to speak ill of my 
King ! ” 

The King was astounded by this bold proposition, but 
the very audacity of it caught his fancy. He struck the 
executioner gently with his sword. 

“ Rise, Sir Knight,” he said, adding, as the Black Knight 
rose to his feet: “You have acted like a knave this night. 
Henceforth you shall be called the Knave of Bergen.” 

Darmstadt: The Proxy 

In the days of chivalry there dwelt in Birbach a knight 
named Walther, no less renowned for his piety than for 
his skill in arms, and the Virgin, according to the follow¬ 
ing legend, was not unmindful of her humble worshipper. 
A great tournament—so runs the tale—was to take place 
in Darmstadt, and Sir Walther, who was about to enter 
the lists for the first time, was not feeling confident as to 
the issue. He knew that there were to be present many 
knights whose strength and skill far exceeded his own, 
and, brave though he was, he could not but recognize that 
his chances of victory were small. Yet he felt that he 
dared not suffer defeat; he must not be disgraced before 
the spectators. In particular, there was a certain fair lady 
whose colours he wore; he must not be shamed before 
her. His mind, as he rode on his way to Darmstadt, 
was filled with conflicting emotions, love, hope, fear, 

253 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

shame, in turn dominating his thoughts. Suddenly he 
came to a wayside altar, upon which was set an image of 
the Virgin, and he decided to carry his troubles to her as 
he was wont to do. So he descended from his horse, 
which he secured to a tree, and made his way to the 
altar. 

So deep were his emotions and so ardent his prayer that 
he passed into a sort of trance and fell at the foot of the 
altar like one dead. While he lay thus unconscious the 
Virgin descended from the altar, unlaced his armour, and 
donned it herself. Then taking sword and shield and 
lance, she mounted his steed and rode into Darmstadt. 
She was absent for some time, but when she returned the 
knight still lay in the death-like state in which she had 
left him. She tied his horse once more to the tree, 
replaced his armour, and then took her accustomed place 
on the altar. 

Shortly after Walther recovered consciousness and rose 
hastily, then, after another prayer to the Virgin, he rode 
as quickly as he might into the town. Here, to his intense 
surprise, he was greeted with joyful shouts and congratu¬ 
lations. His friends hailed him as a mighty champion, 
and she who had won his affections bestowed upon him 
the reward of knightly valour—her promise of marriage. 
The bewildered Walther scarce knew whether he was 
awake or asleep, but at length it was borne in upon him 
that someone had won great triumphs in his name. Who 
could have so successfully personated him as to deceive 
even his dearest friends? Who, indeed, save she to 
whom he had turned in his distress, the Holy Virgin 
herself ? 

Soon he was wedded to the lady of his choice; and to 
show his gratitude for the intervention of Mary he built 
254 



He was greeted with joyful shouts 

Hiram Ellis 


2 54 






















The Cooper of Auerbach 

her a magnificent chapel on the spot where the miracle 
had taken place. Nor did he grow any less diligent 
in her service, but continued to live a noble and pious 
life, in which he was ever encouraged and assisted by 
his wife. 

The Cooper of Auerbach 

It is said that from the ruined castle of Auerbach a fra¬ 
grant perfume of wine sometimes steals upon the air, and 
then the country folk whisper, “ The cooper is tasting 
his wine.” And if asked for the reason of this saying 
they tell the following story. 

Once when the sun shone golden on the vine-clad hills, 
deepening the heavy clusters of grapes to a darker purple, 
a peasant, passing by the ruins, thought longingly upon the 
wine that, in the past, had been stored in those dark, 
cool cellars, wondering if perhaps some might not yet 
be found there, or if all had been wasted and lost. 
And while he yet pondered a rubicund little man, with 
leathern apron dark with wine-stains girded about his 
portly waist, stood at his side looking up at him with 
twinkling eyes. 

“ So, my friend, you think upon the wine, eh ? Come and 
spend an hour with me and you shall taste it.” As he 
spoke a warm, sweet wine-scent rose like incense about 
him, making the peasant’s brain reel with delight. He 
could not but follow the little man, tripping under the 
vines, thrusting his way through thorn-hedges and over 
crumbling walls, till he came to a flight of ancient steps, 
streaked grey and green with moss, leading down to a 
weather-stained cellar-door. The door opened into dusky 
vaults and from a niche in the wall the little cooper took 
a candle and a huge bowl. Then on he went over the 

255 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

moist floor until there rose before them in the candle¬ 
light, darker than the gloom about it, a gigantic tun. In 
a crooning murmur the cooper began to tell of his posses¬ 
sions. He called the vaults his realm, the tuns his dearly 
loved subjects—for, as the peasant gazed, he saw a long 
procession of tuns stretching away into the darkness. He 
shouted with mad delight at the sight, he clapped his 
hands and smacked his lips in anticipation, he declared 
the tuns glittered like pure gold. At this the cooper 
laughed and pointed out that the wine had fashioned its 
own casks, gleaming crusts, from which the ancient wood 
had fallen away long ago. 

And next he filled the huge bowl with deep glowing wine 
and drank to the peasant, whose hands ached to hold the 
bowl and lift it to his lips. At last, with a courtly bow, 
the cooper put it into his hands, and then the rustic 
emptied the bowl in one draught and drew a deep sigh of 
satisfaction. 

In rapture he sang the praises of the wine, but the cooper 
assured him that there was better to come. Again he 
tasted, and again the little man led on from cask to cask. 
Then, mad with delight, the peasant sang aloud, but the 
song broke into wild howling; he danced about the tuns, 
then fell to embracing them, stroking and kissing them, 
babbling love-words to the dusky fragrant wine. And 
still the cooper led on to the next cask, still he filled 
the bowl, and still the peasant drank, till at last in 
very joy tears ran down his face, and before his eyes 
the tuns danced round him in a giddy whirl; then 
slumber fell upon him and he sank down to sleep in 
the gloom. 

When he awoke next morning his body lay stretched in a 
muddy ditch, his lips pressed to clammy moss. Stumbling 
256 


The Cooper of Auerbach 

to his feet, he looked around for the door of the wine 
vault, for the flight of steps leading down to that realm 
of delight, but though he searched long and carefully, yet 
never again could he find it, nor did his eyes see the little 
cooper with his wine-stained leathern apron and his 
rubicund face. 


R 


257 


CHAPTER VI : WORMS AND 
THE NIBELUNGENLIED 


W ORMS is celebrated as the locality of the 
Nibelungenlied and the epic of Walthar of 
Aquitaine . But it has other claims to fame. 
Before entering on the consideration of Germany’s greatest 
epic we will recount several of the lesser legends of the 
locality. 


The Rose Garden : A Tale of Dietrich of Bern 
Dietrich of Bern is the King Arthur of German story. 
Like his prototype of Britain, he has become the central 
figure of innumerable medieval tales and epics, a model 
of chivalry and martial prowess, distinguished everywhere 
by high deeds and mighty feats of arms, and in not a few 
cases displacing the rightful hero of still older myths, 
which thus became grafted on to the Dietrich legends. 
Originally he was a bona-fide historical personage, 
Theodoric the Ostrogoth, and as such gained a wide¬ 
spread popularity among his people. His historical 
character, however, was soon lost in the maze of 
legendary lore which surrounded his name, and which, 
as time went on, ascribed to him feats ever more wildly 
heroic. Among the various traditions there is one 
relating to the Rhenish town of Worms which calls for 
inclusion here as much on account of its intrinsic merit 
as because of its undoubted popularity. The legend of 
the Rose Garden of Worms is a quaint and fanciful tale, 
and even the circumstance that it ends with the death of 
several good knights and true does not rob it of a certain 
humorous quality it possesses. 

By the time Dietrich had reached the prime of his 
adventurous life—so runs the story—he had gathered 

258 


The Rose Garden 

a considerable company of doughty paladins at his court 
—he formed, in fact, a kind of Round Table—and the 
knights who composed it were as eager as their lord to 
seek fresh fields wherein to display their prowess, and 
were second only to him in skill and valour. Among 
them were numbered such illustrious warriors as Her- 
brand, his son Hildebrand, Eckehart, Wolfhart, and 
Amelung. 

On one occasion, as Dietrich was seated at table with his 
followers, he vowed that no court in Christendom could 
boast of such warriors as he could muster. The assembled 
knights greeted the assertion with hearty acclamations— 
all, that is, save the old warrior Herbrand, and he was 
silent. Dietrich looked at him in surprise. 

“ Hast thou nothing to say, Herbrand ? ” he asked. 
“ Thinkest thou to find better knights than these ? ”— 
indicating his followers with a wave of his hand. 
Herbrand seemed somewhat reluctant to uphold his tacit 
objection to Dietrich’s claim. “ Ay,” he said at length, 
“ there are such warriors to be found.” 

“And where may we seek such paragons ?” inquired the 
king, none too well pleased. 

“ In the town of Worms,” replied the old knight, “ there 
lies a wondrous rose garden, of great extent, where the 
queen and her ladies take their pleasure. None save 
these may enter its precincts unless the queen give him 
leave, and that the sacred boundaries may not be over¬ 
stepped twelve warriors are set to guard the garth. 
Such is their strength and courage that none has ever 
succeeded in passing them, whatever his skill and 
renown.” 

“ But wherefore should one seek to pass the guard ? ” 
asked a young knight. “ Is there a prize to be won, then ? ” 

2 59 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

“ Truly,” sighed old Herbrand, “ I would not give a 
hair of my head for the prize. ’Tis but a crown of 
roses and a kiss from one of the queen’s ladies; though 
it is said, indeed, that they are as lovely as women 
may be.” 

“Are there no fair maids in Bern?” cried the warriors 
indignantly. “ Must we go to the Rhine for them ? ” 

“ For myself,” said Dietrich, “ I care little for the reward; 
yet methinks that for the honour and glory I would e’en 
meet these doughty warriors, and peradventure overcome 
them. Who will follow me to Burgundy?” 

As with one voice his knights responded to his appeal, 
and he chose eight from among them to accompany him 
on his quest. As there were still but nine, including 
Dietrich himself, to meet the twelve guardians of the 
Rose Garden, the king decided to send for three knights 
who were absent from the court. At the suggestion of 
Hildebrand he selected Rudiger of Bechlarn, Dietleib of 
Styria, and Ilsan, who was brother to Hildebrand and at 
that time a monk in the monastery of Munchenzell. 
Rudiger was margrave to King Etzel, and had to obtain 
his lord’s permission to venture forth on the romantic 
undertaking; Dietleib’s father strongly recommended 
that the quest be abandoned, though the youth himself 
was as eager as any to accompany Dietrich; while as for 
Ilsan, he found it especially difficult to obtain leave of 
absence, for, naturally, his abbot deemed the enterprise a 
strange one for a monk who had fled all earthly delights. 
However, all difficulties were eventually overcome, and 
when the party was ready for departure Rudiger was sent 
on an embassy to King Gibich at Worms, to prepare him 
for their coming. Gibich gave his ready consent to the 
proposed trial of strength, whereupon the warriors set out 
260 


THE MARKET AND CATHEDRAL, WORMS 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 

Facing page 260 








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The Devil’s Vineyard 

for the Rhine to see whether they might not win a kiss and 
a garland from some fair lady, 

An imposing array did the knights of the Rose Garden 
make as they awaited the approach of the strangers, but 
no less imposing were Dietrich and his warriors. Each 
chose an opponent and immediately engaged in a fierce 
hand-to-hand struggle, which was to end disastrously for 
more than one brave knight. The first to dispatch his 
antagonist was Wolf hart, who submitted to being crowned 
with a rose-wreath, but disdained to accept the rest of the 
reward. The monk, who was the next victor, took the 
roses and kissed the maiden heartily. But alas ! a bristly 
beard covered his chin, and the maid was left ruefully 
rubbing her pouting lips. One by one Dietrich’s knights 
overcame their adversaries, some of whom were slain and 
some wounded. Toward nightfall a truce was called, and 
Dietrich and his company set out to return to Bern, well 
satisfied with having disproved the assertion of Herbrand 
that there were better warriors in the world than Dietrich 
and his noble company. 

The Devil's Vineyard 

There is a curious legend told to account for the excellent 
quality of the wine of Worms. An old nobleman who at 
one time lived in that neighbourhood was in the habit of 
drinking more of the Rhenish wine than was good for him. 
In every other respect he was a most worthy man, kind, 
generous, and pious. 

His piety, in an age when such qualities were rare, roused 
the ire of the Devil, who determined to bring about his 
fall, and as the old man’s love of wine was his only serious 
weakness, it was through this that the Fiend set himself 
to compass the nobleman’s destruction. 


261 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

The Devil therefore disguised himself as a strolling 
musician and made the acquaintance of the old man. The 
latter set before him some of the wine of the country, 
extolling meanwhile its rare qualities. The guest seemed 
not at all impressed by the recital, but spoke of a wine which 
he had tasted in the South and which far surpassed any 
other vintage. The nobleman was all curiosity. The 
stranger talked of the wonderful wine with feigned reluc¬ 
tance, and at length his host promised to give him anything 
he should ask if only he would fetch him some of the wine. 
Satan promised to plant a vineyard in Worms, asking in 
exchange the soul of his host, to be forfeited at the end of 
a fixed period. 

To this the old man consented, and the strolling musician 
planted a vineyard which sprang up as though by magic. 
When the first vintage was produced it was found to be 
delicious beyond the dreams of the old nobleman, who 
was indeed a connoisseur in wines. In his delight he 
christened the wine Liebfrauenmilch , signifying ‘Milk 
of our Blessed Lady. 5 The Devil was furious at this 
reference to the Holy Virgin, but he consoled himself with 
the thought that in due course the man’s soul would be his. 
But the Virgin herself was pleased with the christening of 
the vineyard, and rather sorry for the foolish old noble¬ 
man who had bartered his soul for the Devil’s wine. 
When, therefore, the time arrived for the Evil One to 
claim his fee, she sent her angels to drive him away, and 
thus he was robbed of his prey. 

The old man, having learned the danger of treating with 
the Devil, now built a chapel to the Virgin in his vine¬ 
yard. He lived for a long time to enjoy the luscious 
wine, under the protection of the saints, and never again 
did he make a compact with Satan. 

262 


The Maiden’s Caprice 

Now, if anyone requires a proof of this marvellous story, 
is there not the Liebfrauenmilch , most delicious of wines, 
to convince him of its truth ? 

The Maidens Caprice 

In the town of Worms there stands an old manor, built in 
the style of the Renaissance and known as the Wampolder 
Hof. At one time it belonged to the lord of Wampold, 
a wealthy noble of Mainz, who had appointed as castellan 
a kinsman of his, himself a nobleman, though landless and 
poor and no longer able to uphold his former dignities. 
In his youth the keeper had lived a gay and careless life, 
but now he was old and infirm and cared no longer for 
worldly vanities. His sole pride was his young daughter, 
a bewitching maiden who had more lovers than one could 
readily count, and who smiled upon them all impartially. 
With so many lovelorn youths at her beck and call it is 
hardly surprising that she should grow exacting and 
capricious, but this, as usually happens, only made them 
love her the more. 

There was one among her suitors, however, for whom she 
cherished a real affection. Handsome, cultured, and, like 
herself, of noble birth, he was, notwithstanding his poverty, 
by far the most eligible of the youths who sought her in 
marriage, and the castellan readily granted his consent to 
their betrothal. So for a time everything seemed to indi¬ 
cate happiness in store for the young couple. 

Yet the maiden remained as capricious as ever. On 
Walpurgis-night, when a party of lads and lasses were 
gathered in the Wampolder Hof, and tales of witches and 
witchcraft were being told in hushed tones, she conceived 
a wild scheme to test her lover’s affection : she bade him 
go to the cross-roads at midnight, watch the procession of 

263 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

witches, and return to tell her what he saw. The awed 
company protested vigorously against the proposed test, 
but the girl persisted, and at last her lover, seeing that 
she was already piqued at his refusal, laughingly set out 
for the bewitched spot, convinced that no harm would 
befall him. 

Meantime the company in the manor anxiously awaited 
his return. One o’clock came, then two—three; still there 
was no sign of him. Glances of horror and pity were cast 
at the castellan’s daughter, who now wrung her hands in 
futile grief. At length a few braver spirits volunteered 
to go in search of their comrade, but no trace of him could 
they find. His widowed mother, of whom he had been the 
only son, cursed the maid who was the cause of his ghastly 
fate, and not long afterward the castellan’s daughter lost 
her reason and died. On Walpurgis-nights she may still 
be heard in Worms calling for her lost lover, whom she is 
destined never to find. 

The fate of the youth remains uncertain. The most popular 
account is that he was torn limb from limb by the infuri¬ 
ated witches and his remains scattered to the winds. But 
some, less superstitious than their neighbours, declared 
that he had been murdered by his rivals, the disappointed 
suitors, and that his body had been cast into the Rhine— 
for not long afterward a corpse, which might have been 
that of the missing youth, was drawn from the river by 
fishermen. 

The Nibelungenlied 

The greatest Rhine story of all is that wondrous German 
Iliad, the Nibelungenlied , for it is on the banks of the 
Rhine in the ancient city of Worms that its action for the 
most part takes place. The earliest actual form of the 
264 


The Nibelungenlied 

epic is referred to the first part of the thirteenth century, 
but it is probable that a Latin original founded on ballads 
or folk-songs was in use about the middle or latter end of 
the tenth century. The work, despite many medieval 
interpolations and the manifest liberties of generations of 
bards and minnesingers, bears the unmistakable stamp 
of a great antiquity. A whole literature has grown up 
around this mighty epic of old Germanic life, and men of 
vast scholarship and literary acumen have made it a 
veritable battle-ground of conflicting theories, one con¬ 
tending for its mythical genesis, another proving to his 
satisfaction that it is founded upon historic fact, whilst 
others dispute hotly as to its Germanic or Scandinavian 
origin. 

So numerous are the conflicting opinions concerning the 
origin of the Nibelungenlied that it is extremely difficult 
to present to the reader a reasoned examination of the 
whole without entering rather deeply: into philological 
and mythical considerations of considerable complexity. 
We shall therefore confine ourselves to the main points of 
these controversies and refrain from entering upon the 
more puzzling bypaths which are only to be trodden by 
the ‘Senior Wranglers’ of the study, as they have been 
called. 

Its Original Form 

In the beginning of the nineteenth century Karl Lach- 
mann, a philologist of some repute, put forward the 
theory that the poem was made up of a number of distinct 
ballads or lays, and he eliminated from it all parts which 
appeared to him to be interpolations. This reduced the 
whole to twenty lays, which he considered the work of 
twenty separate minstrels; but if certain ballads relating 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

to episodes in the Nibelungenlied once existed in Germany 
it is the spirit of these more than the matter which is 
incorporated into the great epic. In medieval times, 
when the Nibelungenlied story was popular, minnesingers 
and harpers, in an attempt to please their audiences, would 
cast about for fresh incidents to introduce into the story. 
Popular as was the tale, even a medieval audience could 
tire of the oft-repeated exploits of its dramatis personae , 
and the minstrel, dependent upon their goodwill for bed 
and board, would be quick to note when the tale fell flat. 
Accordingly he would attempt to infuse into it some new 
incident or series of incidents, culled from other stories 
more often than not self-created. Such an interpolation is 
probably to be noted in the presence of Dietrich of Bern, 
otherwise Theodoric the Ostrogoth, at the court of Etzel 
or Attila. To say nothing of the probability of anachronism, 
geographical conditions are not a little outraged in the 
adoption of this incident, but the question arose who was 
to worst the mighty Hagen, whose sombre figure domi¬ 
nates in its gloomy grandeur the latter part of the saga. 
It would not do for any Hunnish champion to vie success¬ 
fully with the Burgundian hero, but it would be no disgrace 
for him to be beaten by Dietrich, the greatest champion 
of antiquity, who, in fact, is more than once dragged into 
the pages of romance for the purpose of administering 
an honourable defeat to a hitherto unconquered champion. 
We can thus see how novel and subsidiary passages might 
attach themselves to the epic. 

But a day came when the minnesingers of Germany felt 
that it behoved them to fix once and for all time the shape 
of the Lay of the Nibelungs. Indeed, not one, but several 
poets laboured at this task. That they worked with 
materials immediately to their hand is seen from the 
266 


Kriemhild’s Dream 

circumstance that we have proof of a Low German account, 
and a Rhenish version which was evidently moulded into 
its present shape by an Austrian or Tyrolese craftsman— 
a singer well versed in court poetry and courtly etiquette. 
The date when the Nibelungenlied received its latest form 
was probably about the end of the twelfth century, and 
this last version was the immediate source of our present 
manuscripts. The date of the earliest known manuscript 
of the Nibelungenlied is comparatively late. We possess 
in all twenty-eight more or less complete manuscripts pre¬ 
served in thirty-one fragments, fifteen of which date from 
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. 

Its Fragmentary Nature 

Even a surface examination is sufficient to testify to the 
fragmentary nature of the Nibelungenlied . We can dis¬ 
cern through the apparent unity of texture of the work as 
we now possess it the patchwork where scribe or minstrel 
has interpolated this incident or joined together these 
passages to secure the necessary unity of narrative. More¬ 
over, in none of the several versions of the Siegfried epic 
do we get the ‘ whole story.’ One supplements another. 
And while we shall follow the Nibelungenlied itself as 
closely as possible we shall in part supplement it from 
other kindred sources, taking care to indicate these where 
we find it necessary to introduce them. 

KriemhilcTs Dream 

In the stately town of Worms, in Burgundy, dwelt the 
noble and beauteous maiden Kriemhild, under the care of 
her mother Ute, and her brothers Gunther, Gernot, and 
Giselher. Great was the splendour and state which they 
maintained, and many and brave were the warriors who 

267 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

drank wine at their board. Given to martial exercises were 
those men of might, and day by day the courts of the palace 
rang to the clangor of sword-play and manly sport. The 
wealth of the chiefs was boundless, and no such magnifi¬ 
cence as theirs was known in any German land, or in any 
land beyond the German frontiers. 

But with all this stateliness and splendour Kriemhild, the 
beautiful, was unhappy. One night she had had an ominous 
dream. She dreamed that she had tamed a falcon strong 
and fierce, a beauteous bird of great might, but that 
while she gazed on it with pride and affection two great 
eagles swooped from the sky and tore it to pieces before 
her very eyes. Affected by this to an extent that seemed 
inexplicable, she related her dream to her mother, Ute, 
a dame of great wisdom, who interpreted it as fore¬ 
telling for her a noble husband, “ whom God protect, lest 
thou lose him too early.” Kriemhild, in dread of the 
omen, desired to avert it by remaining unwed, a course 
from which her mother attempted to dissuade her, telling 
her that if ever she were destined to know heartfelt joy it 
would be from a husband’s love. 

Siegfried 

Siegfried, of the Netherlands, son of Siegmund and 
Sieglind, a warrior bold as he was young and comely, 
having heard of the great beauty of Kriemhild, desired to 
visit Worms that he might see the far-famed princess for 
himself. Until this time he had been wandering through 
the world doing great deeds : he had won the sword and 
treasure of the Nibelungs, had overcome their monarchs, 
had conquered a dwarf Alberich, gaining possession of his 
cloak of darkness. Hagen, a mighty Burgundian paladin 
(in a passage which is obviously adapted from another 
268 


Siegfried 

version for the purpose of recounting Siegfried’s previous 
adventures), tells how “ he had slain a dragon and made 
himself invulnerable by bathing in its blood. We must 
receive him graciously, and avoid making him our 
enemy.” Siegfried sojourned at Worms for over a year, 
distinguishing himself in all the martial exercises of the 
Burgundians and rendering them splendid service in their 
wars against the Saxons and Danes. A year passed 
without his having been allowed to meet Kriemhild, 
who in secret cherished the utmost admiration for him. 
Chagrined at the treatment meted out to him, he finally 
made up his mind to depart. But his hosts did not 
desire to lose such a valuable ally, and brought about a 
meeting between him and the lady of his dreams. The 
passage describing their first sight of one another is full 
of the essence of romance. 

We are told that Kriemhild appeared before his eyes as 
does the rosy flush of dawn breaking from sombre clouds. 
As he beheld her his heart was soothed and all his 
trouble vanished, for there stood she who had cost him 
many a love-pang, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, 
brighter than the rich jewels which covered her raiment, 
her cheeks suffused with the blushes of maidenhood. No one 
had, he thought, ever seen so much beauty before. As the 
silver moon obscures the light of the stars by its superior 
splendour, so did Kriemhild obscure the beauty of the 
ladies who surrounded her. When he beheld her each 
hero drew himself up more proudly than ever and 
appeared as if ready to do battle for such a paragon of 
beauty. She was preceded by chamberlains in rich 
attire, but no ushers might keep back the knights from 
sight of her, and they crowded about her to catch a 
glimpse of her face. Pleased and sad was Siegfried, for, 

269 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

thought he, “ How may I ever hope to win so peerless a 
creature ? The hope is a rash one. Better were I to 
forget her—but then, alas, my heart would have ceased 
to beat, and I should be dead ! ” Pale and red he grew. 
He recked not of his own great worth. For all there 
agreed that so handsome a warrior had never come to the 
Rhineland, so fair of body, so debonair was he. 

The Wooing of Brunhild 

Siegfried now resolved to win Kriemhild, and on Gunther’s 
asking him to accompany him on an adventure the purpose 
of which is to gain the hand of Queen Brunhild of Isenstein, 
he accepted on condition that on their return he should be 
rewarded by the hand of his sister. To this Gunther gave 
assent, and they set out, accompanied by Hagen and his 
brother Dankwart. But the Nibelungenlied proper is 
silent regarding Siegfried’s previous relations with Brun¬ 
hild. In Scandinavian versions—such as the Volsunga 
Saga , where this legend, originally a German one, is pre¬ 
served in its pagan form—Brunhild was a Valkyr, or war- 
maiden of Odin, who sent her to sleep with a prick of a 
magic thorn and imprisoned her within a circle of flame, 
through which Siegfried (in this version almost certainly 
the god of nature, springtide, and the sun) broke, delivered 
the captive, and took her as his bride, soon, however, 
departing from her. In the Nibelungenlied this ancient 
myth is either presupposed or intentionally omitted as 
unfitting for consumption by a Christianized folk, but it is 
hinted that Brunhild had a previous claim upon Siegfried’s 
affections. 

Brunhild had made it a condition that the hero whom she 
would wed must be able to overcome her in three trials of 
prowess, losing his head as a penalty of failure. Siegfried, 
270 


The Wooing of Brunhild 

donning the magic cloak of invisibility he had won from 
Alberich, king of the dwarfs, took Gunther’s place and won 
the three trials for him, Gunther going through a pantomime 
of the appropriate actions while Siegfried performed the 
feats. The passage which tells of the encounter is curious. 
A great spear, heavy and keen, was brought forth for 
Brunhild’s use. It was more a weapon for a hero of might 
than for a maiden, but, unwieldy as it was, she was able to 
brandish it as easily as if it had been a willow wand. 
Three and a half weights of iron went to the making of this 
mighty spear, which scarce three of her men could carry. 
Sore afraid was Gunther. Well did he wish him safe in 
the Burgundian land. “ Once back in Rhineland,” thought 
he, “ and I would not stir a foot’s distance to win any such 
war-maid.” 

But up spake Dankwart, Hagen’s valiant brother: “Now 
is the day come on which we must bid farewell to our 
lives. An ill journey has this been, I trow, for in this 
land we shall perish at the hands of women. Oh, that my 
brother Hagen and I had but our good swords here! 
Then would these carles of Brunhild’s check their laughter. 
Without arms a man can do nothing, but had I a blade in 
hand even Brunhild herself should die ere harm came to 
our dear lord.” 

This speech heard the warrior-maid. “Now put these 
heroes’ swords into their hands,” she commanded, “ and 
accoutre them in their mail.” 

Right glad was Dankwart to feel iron in his hand once 
more and know its weight upon his limbs. “Now I am 
ready for such play as they list,” he cried. “Since we 
have arms, our lord is not yet conquered.” 

Into the ring of contest mighty men bore a great stone. 
Twelve of them it took to carry it, so ponderous it was. 

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Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Woe were they of Burgundy for their lord at sight of the 
same. 

Brunhild advanced on Gunther, brandishing her spear. 
Siegfried was by his side and touched him lightly to give 
him confidence, but Gunther knew not it was he and 
marvelled, for no one saw he there. 

“Who hath touched me?” said he. 

“ ’Tis I, Siegfried,” replied his friend. “ Be of good cheer 
and fear not the maiden. Give me thy shield and mark 
well what I say. Make thou motions as if to guard and 
strike, and I will do the deeds. Above all hearken to my 
whispered advice.’* 

Great was Gunther’s joy when he knew that Siegfried was 
by him. But he had not long to marvel, for Brunhild was 
on him, her great spear in hand, the light from its broad 
blade flashing in his eyes. She hurled the spear at his 
shield. It passed through the iron as if it had been silk 
and struck on the rings of Gunther’s armour. Both 
Gunther and Siegfried staggered at the blow. But the 
latter, although bleeding from the mouth with the shock 
of the thrown weapon, seized it, reversing the point, and 
cast it at Brunhild with such dreadful might that when it 
rang on her armour she was overthrown. 

Right angry was Brunhild. But she weened that the 
blow was Gunther’s, and respected him for his strength. 
Her anger, however, overcame her esteem, and seizing 
the great stone which had been placed in the ring of 
combat, she cast it from her twelve fathoms. Leaping 
after it, she sprang farther than she had thrown it. Then 
went Gunther to the stone and poised it while Siegfried 
threw it. He cast the stone farther than Brunhild had 
done, and so great was his strength that he raised King 
Gunther from the earth and leapt with him a greater 
272 


The Wooing of Brunhild 

distance than Brunhild had leapt herself. Men saw 
Gunther throw and leap alone. 

Red with anger grew Brunhild when she saw herself 
defeated. Loudly she addressed her men. 

“ Ho, ye liegemen of mine,” she cried, “now are ye subject 
to Gunther the King, for, behold, he has beaten me in the 
sports.” 

The knights then acclaimed Gunther as the victor. By 
his own strength of arm had he won the games, said they, 
and he in turn greeted them lovingly. Brunhild came 
forward, took him by the hand, and granted to him full 
power throughout her dominions. They proceeded to 
her palace and Gunther’s warriors were now regaled with 
better cheer than before. But Siegfried carefully con¬ 
cealed his magic cloak. 

Coming to where Gunther and Brunhild sat, he said : 
“My lord, why do you tarry? Why are the games of 
which Queen Brunhild doth speak not yet begun? I 
long to see how they may be played.” He acted his part 
so well that Brunhild really believed that he was not 
aware the games were over and that she was the 
loser. 

“ Now, Sir Siegfried,” said she, “ how comes it that you 
were not present when the games, which Gunther has won, 
were being played ? ” 

Hagen, fearing that Siegfried might blunder in his reply, 
took the answer out of his mouth and said : “ O Queen, 
the good knight Siegfried was hard by the ship when 
Gunther won the games from you. Naught indeed knew 
he of them.” 

Siegfried now expressed great surprise that any man 
living had been able to master the mighty war-maid. “ Is 
it possible,” he exclaimed, “ is it possible, O Queen, that 

s 273 


1 


Hero Tales &> Legends of the Rhine 

you have been vanquished at the sports in which you excel 
so greatly ? But I for one am glad, since now you needs 
must follow us home to the Rhineland.” 

“ You are speedy of speech, Sir Siegfried,” replied Brun¬ 
hild. “ But there is much to do ere yet I quit my lands. 
First must I inform my kindred and vassals of this thing. 
Messengers must be sent to many of my kinsmen ere I 
depart from Isenstein.” 

With that she bade couriers ride to all quarters, bidding 
her kinsmen, her friends, and her warriors come without 
delay to Isenstein. For several days they arrived in 
troops : early and late they came, singly and in com¬ 
panies. Then with a large escort Brunhild sailed across 
the sea and up the Rhine to Worms. 

Siegfried and Brunhild 

It now became increasingly clear that Siegfried and 
Brunhild had had affectionate relations in the past. [In¬ 
deed, in the Volsunga Saga , which is an early version of 
the Nibelungenlied, we find Grimhild, the mother of 
Gudrun (Kriemhild), administering to Sigurd (Siegfried) 
a magic potion in order that he should forget about Brun¬ 
hild.] On seeing Siegfried and Kriemhild greet each 
other with a kiss, sadness and jealousy wrung the heart 
of the war-maiden, and she evinced anything but a wifely 
spirit toward her husband Gunther, whom, on the first 
night of their wedded life, she wrestled with, defeated, 
and bound with her girdle, afterward hanging him up 
by it on a peg in the wall! Next day he appealed to 
Siegfried for assistance, and that night the hero donned 
his magic cloak of invisibility, contended with Brunhild 
in the darkness, and overcame her, she believing him 
to be Gunther, who was present during the strife. But 
274 


The Plot against Siegfried 

Siegfried was foolish enough to carry away her ring and 
girdle, “ for very haughtiness.” These he gave to 
Kriemhild, and sore both of them rued it in after-time. 
Brunhild’s strength vanished with her maidenhood and 
thenceforth she was as any other woman. 

Siegfried and Kriemhild now departed to the capital of 
Santen, on the Lower Rhine, and peace prevailed for ten 
years, until Brunhild persuaded Gunther to invite them to 
a festival at Worms. She could not understand how, if 
Siegfried was Gunther’s vassal, as Gunther had informed 
her, he neither paid tribute nor rendered homage. The 
invitation was accepted cordially enough. But Kriemhild 
and Brunhild quarrelled bitterly regarding a matter of pre¬ 
cedence as to who should first enter church, and at the door 
of the minster of Worms there was an unseemly squabble. 
Then Kriemhild taunted Brunhild with the fact that 
Siegfried had won and deserted her, and displayed the 
girdle and ring as proof of what she asserted. 

Siegfried, confronted with Brunhild, denied that he had 
ever approached her in any unseemly way, and he and 
Gunther attempted to make peace between their wives. 
But all to no avail. A deadly feud had sprung up 
between them, which was to end in woe for all. 
Hagen swore a great oath that Siegfried should pay 
for the insult his wife had put upon Brunhild. 

The Plot against Siegfried 

Now, but four days after, news came to Gunther’s court 
that war was declared against him. But this was merely 
a plot to draw Siegfried from the court and compass his 
death. The heroes armed for war, among them Siegfried. 
When Hagen bade farewell to Kriemhild she recom¬ 
mended Siegfried to his care. Now, when Siegfried slew 

275 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

the dragon which guarded the treasure of the Nibelungs, 
he bathed in its blood and became, like Achilles, invul¬ 
nerable, save at a spot where a linden leaf had fallen 
between his shoulders as he bathed, and so prevented 
contact with the potent stream. Hagen inquired of 
Kriemhild the whereabouts of this vulnerable spot, pre¬ 
tending that he would guard Siegfried against treachery- 
in battle; and she, fully believing in his good faith, 
sewed a silken cross upon Siegfried’s mantle to mark 
the place. 

On the following morning Siegfried, with a thousand 
knights, took horse and rode away, thinking to avenge 
his comrades. Hagen rode beside him and carefully 
scanned his vesture. He did not fail to observe the 
mark, and having done so, he dispatched two of his men 
with another message. It was to the effect that the King 
might know that now his land would remain at peace. 
This Siegfried was loath to hear, for he would have done 
battle for his friends, and it was with difficulty that 
Gunther’s vassals could hold him back. Then he rode 
to Gunther, who thanked him warmly for having so 
quickly granted his prayer. Gunther assured him that 
if need be he would at any time come to his aid, and 
that he held him the most trusty of all his friends. He 
pretended to be so glad that the threat of war was past 
that he suggested that they should ride hunting to the 
Odenwald after the bear and the boar, as they had so 
often done before. This was the counsel of the false 
Hagen. 

It was arranged that they should start early for the 
greenwood, and Gunther promised to lend Siegfried 
several dogs that knew the forest ways well. Siegfried 
then hurried home to his wife, and when he had departed 
276 


Siegfried’s Farewell to Kricmhild 

Hagen and the King took counsel together. After they 
had agreed upon the manner in which they would compass 
the destruction of Siegfried, they communicated their 
plans to their comrades. Giselher and Gernot would not 
take part in the hunt, but nevertheless they abstained 
from warning Siegfried of his danger. For this, however, 
they paid dearly in the end. 

The morning dawned bright and clear, and away the 
warriors cantered with a clatter of hoofs and a boasting 
of bugles. 

Siegfried's Farewell to Kriemhild 
Before departing Siegfried had said farewell to Kriem¬ 
hild, who, she knew not why, was filled with dark 
forebodings. 

“ God grant I may see thee safe and well again,” said 
Siegfried. “ Keep thou a merry heart among thy kin 
until I return.” 

Then Kriemhild thought on the secret she had betrayed 
to Hagen, but she could not tell Siegfried of it. Sorely 
she wept, wishing that she had never been born, and keen 
and deep was her grief. 

“ Husband,” she said, “ go not to the hunt. A baleful 
dream I had last night. You stood upon the heath and 
two wild boars approached. You fled, but they pursued 
you and wounded you, and the blossoms under your feet 
were red with blood. You behold my tears. Siegfried, 
I dread treachery. Wot you not of some who cherish for 
us a deadly hate ? I counsel you, I beg you, dear lord, 
go not to the greenwood.” 

Siegfried tried to laugh her fears away, “ It is but for 
a few days that I leave thee, beloved,” he said. “Who 
can bear me hate if I cherish none against them ? Thy 

2 77 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

brothers wish me well, nor have I offended them in any 
wise.” 

But Kriemhild would not be comforted. “ Greatly do I 
dread this parting,” she wailed, “ for I dreamed another 
dream. You passed by two mountains, and they rocked 
on their bases, fell, and buried you, so that I saw you no 
more. Go not, for bitterly will I grieve if you depart.” 
But with a laugh and a kiss Siegfried was gone. Leaping 
on his steed, he rode off at a gallop. Nevermore was she 
to see him in life. 

Into the gloomy forest, the abode of the bear, the wolf, 
and the wild boar, plunged the knights in their lust of 
royal sport. Brilliant, brave, and goodly of cheer was the 
company, and rich was their entertainment. Many pack- 
horses laden with meats and wines accompanied them, 
and the panniers on the backs of these bulged with flesh, 
fish, and game, fitting for the table of a great king. 

On a broad meadow fringing the greenwood they camped, 
near to the place where they were to begin the hunt, and 
watchers were set round the camp, so that no one with a 
message of warning on his lips might win to the ears of 
Siegfried. 

Siegfried waxed restless, for he had come not to feast but 
to hunt, and he desired to be home again with Kriemhild. 
“ Ha, comrades,” he cried; “ who will into the forest with 
me and rouse the game?” 

“Then,” said the crafty Hagen, “let us find who is the 
best sportsman. Let us divide the huntsmen and the 
hounds so that each may ride alone where he chooses; 
and great praise shall be to him who hunts the best and 
bears off the palm.” 

To this Siegfried agreed, and asked only for one hound 
that had been well broken to the chase to accompany him. 
278 


Siegfried’s Farewell to Kriemhild 

This was granted. Then there came an old huntsman 
with a limehound and led the sportsmen to where there 
was an abundance of game. Many beasts were started 
and hunted to the death, as is ever the way with good 
huntsmen. 

Nothing that the limehound started could escape Siegfried. 
Swift was his steed as the tempest, and whether it was 
bear or boar he soon came up with it and slew it. Once 
he encountered a stark and mighty lion. Aiming an arrow 
at the monster, he shot it through the heart. The forest 
rang with acclaim at the deed. 

Then there fell by his hand a buffalo, an elk, four grim 
aurochs, and a bear, nor could deer or hind escape 
him, so swift and wight was he. Anon he brought a 
wild boar to bay. The grisly beast charged him, but, 
drawing his sword, Siegfried transfixed it with the shining 
blade. 

“ I pray thee, lord,” said his huntsman, “ leave to us 
something living, for in truth thy strong arm doth empty 
both mountain and forest.” 

Merrily rang the noise of the chase in the greenwood that 
day. The hills and the leafy aisles of the forest resounded 
with the shouts of the hunters and the baying of dogs. In 
that hunting many a beast met its death-day and great was 
the rivalry. But when the, hunting was over and the heroes 
met at the tryst-fire, they saw that Siegfried had proved 
himself the greatest huntsman of them all. 

One by one they returned from the forest to the trysting- 
place, carrying with them the shaggy fell of the bear, the 
bristly boar-skin, and the grey pelt of the wolf. Meat 
abounded in that place, and the blast of a horn announced 
to the hungry knights that the King was about to feast. 
Said Siegfried’s huntsman to him : “ I hear the blast of a 

279 


Hero Tales <S1? Legends of the Rhine 

horn bidding us return to the trysting-place,” and raising 
his bugle to his lips, he answered it. 

Siegfried was about to leave the forest, ambling quietly 
on horseback through the green ways, when he roused a 
mighty bear. The limehound was slipped and the bear 
lumbered off, pursued by Siegfried and his men. They 
dashed into a ravine, and here Siegfried thought to run 
the beast down, but the sides were too steep and the 
knight could not approach it on horseback. Lightly 
he sprang from his steed, and the bear, seeing his 
approach, once more took flight. So swift, however, was 
Siegfried’s pursuit that ere the heavy beast could elude 
him he had caught it by its shaggy coat and had bound 
it in such a manner that it was harmless; then, tying it 
across his horse’s back, he brought it to the tryst-fire for 
pastime. 

Proudly emerged Siegfried from the forest, and Gunther’s 
men, seeing him coming, ran to hold his horse. When he 
had dismounted he dragged the bear from his horse’s 
back and set it loose. Immediately the dogs pursued it, 
and in its efforts to escape into the forest it dashed madly 
through a band of scullions who were cooking by the 
great fire. There was a clatter of iron pots, and burning 
brands were strewed about. Many goodly dishes were 
spoiled. The King gave order to slip the hounds that were 
on leash. Taking their bows and spears, the warriors set off 
in chase of the bear—but they feared to shoot at it through 
fear of wounding any among the great pack of dogs that 
hung upon its flanks. The one man who could keep pace 
with the bear was Siegfried, who, coming up with it, 
pierced it with his sword and laid it dead on the 
ground. Then, lifting the carcass on his shoulders, he 
carried it back to the fire, to the marvel of all present. 

280 


The Slaying of Siegfried 

Then began the feasting. Rich meats were handed 
around, and all was festive and gay. No suspicion had 
Siegfried that he was doomed, for his heart was pure of 
all deceit. But the wine had not yet been brought from 
the kitchen, whereat Sir Siegfried wondered. 

Addressing Gunther, he said: “Why do not your men 
bring us wine? If this is the manner in which you treat 
good hunters, certes, I will hunt no more. Surely I have 
deserved better at your hands.” 

And the false Gunther answered: “ Blame me not, 
Siegfried, for the fault is Hagen’s. Truly he would 
have us perish of thirst.” 

“ Dear master,” said Hagen of Trony, “ the fault is mine— 
if fault it be—for methought we were to hunt to-day at 
Spessart and thither did I send the wine. If we go thirsty 
to-day, credit me I will have better care another time.” 
But Siegfried was athirst and said : “ If wine lacks, then 
must we have water. We should have camped nearer to 
the Rhine.” 

The Slaying of Siegfried 

And Hagen, perceiving his chance, replied : “ I know of a 
cool spring close at hand. If you will follow me I will 
lead you thither.” 

Sore athirst was Siegfried, and starting up from his seat, 
he followed Hagen. But the crafty schemer, desiring to 
draw him away from the company so that none else would 
follow them, said to him as they were setting out for the 
spring: “ Men say, Siegfried, that none can keep pace 
with you when you run. Let us see now.” 

“ That may easily be proved,” said Siegfried. “ Let us 
run to the brook for a wager, and see who wins there first. 
If I lose I will lay me before you in the grass. Nay, I 

281 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

will more, for I will carry with me spear, shield, and 
hunting gear.” 

Then did he gird on his weapons, even to his quiver, 
while the others stripped, and off they set. But Siegfried 
easily passed them and arrived at the lime-tree where was 
the well. But he would not drink first for courtesy, even 
although he was sore athirst. 

Gunther came up, bent down to the water, and drank of 
the pure, cool well. Siegfried then bent him to drink 
also. But the false Hagen, carrying his bow and sword 
out of reach, sprang back and gripped the hero’s mighty 
spear. Then looked he for the secret mark on his vesture 
that Kriemhild had worked. 

As Siegfried drank from the stream Hagen poised the 
great spear and plunged it between the hero’s shoulders. 
Deeply did the blade pierce through the spot where lay 
the secret mark, so that the blood spurted out on the 
traitor’s garments. Hagen left the spear deep in Sieg¬ 
fried’s heart and flew in grim haste from the place. 
Though wounded to the death, Siegfried rose from the 
stream like a maddened lion and cast about him for a 
weapon. But nothing came to his hand but his shield. 
This he picked up from the water’s edge and ran at Hagen, 
who might not escape him, for, sore wounded as he was, 
so mightily did he smite that the shield well-nigh burst 
and the jewels which adorned it flew in flinders. The 
blow rang across the meadow as Hagen fell beneath the 
stroke. 

It was Siegfried’s last blow. His countenance was already 
that of a dead man. He could not stand upright. Down 
he crashed among the flowers; fast flowed his blood; in 
his agony he began to upbraid those who had contrived 
his death. 

282 



The Funeral of Siegfried 282 

Hermann Hendrick 













The Slaying of Siegfried 

“Cowards and caitiffs,” he cried, “is this the price you 
pay me for my fealty to you ? Ill have you done by your 
friends, for sons of yours as yet unborn will feel the weight 
of this deed. You have vented your spite on my body; 
but for this dastard crime all good knights shall shun 
you.” 

Now all surrounded him, and those that were true among 
them mourned for him. Gunther also wept. But the 
dying man, turning to him, said: “ Does he weep for the 
evil from whom the evil cometh ? Better for him that it 
had remained undone, for mighty is his blame.” 

Then said false Hagen : “ What rue ye ? Surely our care 
is past. Who will now withstand us ? Right glad am I 
that Siegfried is no more.” 

Loud was Siegfried’s dole for Kriemhild. “ Never was 
so foul a murder done as thou hast done on me, O king,” 
he said to Gunther. “ I saved thy life and honour. But if 
thou canst show truth to any on earth, show it to my dear 
wife, I beg of thee, for never had woman such woe for one 
she loved.” 

Painfully he writhed as they watched him, and as he 
became weaker he spake prophetically. 

“ Greatly shall ye rue this deed in the days to come,” he 
groaned, “ for know, all of ye, that in slaying me ye have 
slain yourselves.” 

Wet were the flowers with his blood. He struggled 
grimly with death, but too deep had been the blow, and 
at last he spake no more. 

They laid his body on a shield of ruddy gold and took 
counsel with one another how they should hide that the 
deed had been done by Hagen. 

“Sure have we fallen on evil days,” said many; “but let 
us all hide this thing, and hold to one tale: that is, that 

283 


Hero Tales <§f Legends of the Rhine 

as Siegfried rode alone in the forest he was slain by 
robbers.” 

“ But,” said Hagen of Trony, “ I will myself bear him back 
to Burgundy. It is little concern of mine if Kriemhild 
weep.” 

Kriemhilds Grief 

Great was the grief of Kriemhild when she learned of the 
murder of her husband, whose body had been placed at her 
very door by the remorseless Hagen. He and the rest of the 
Burgundians pretended that Siegfried had been slain by 
bandits, but on their approach the wounds of Siegfried 
commenced to bleed afresh in mute witness of treachery. 
Kriemhild secretly vowed a terrible revenge and would not 
quit the land where her beloved spouse was buried. For 
four years she spake never a word to Gunther or Hagen, 
but sat silent and sad in a chamber near the minster where 
Siegfried was buried. Gunther sent for the Nibelungen 
treasure for the purpose of propitiating her, but she distri¬ 
buted it so freely among Gunther’s dependents that Hagen 
conceived the suspicion that her intention was to suborn 
them to her cause and foment rebellion within the Bur¬ 
gundian dominions; therefore he seized it and sank it in 
the Rhine, forcing Kriemhild’s brethren never to divulge 
its whereabouts. 

It is a circumstance of some importance that when this 
treasure enters the land of the Burgundians they take the 
name of Nibelungs, as Siegfried was called Lord of the 
Nibelungs on first possessing the hoard, and for this 
reason that part of the poem which commences with the 
Burgundian acquirement of the treasure was formerly 
known as the Nibelungen Not . 

The confiscation of the treasure was another sharp wound 
284 


Kriemhild Marries Attila 

to Kriemhild, who appears to have bitterly cherished every 
hostile act committed against her by her uncle Hagen and 
her brothers, and to have secretly nursed her grievances 
throughout the remainder of her saddened existence. 

Kriemhild Marries A ttila 

Thirteen years after the death of Siegfried, Helche, wife 
of Attila, or Etzel, King of the Huns, having died, that 
monarch was desirous of marrying again, and dispatched 
his faithful councillor, Rudiger, Margrave of Bechlarn, to 
the Burgundian court to ask for the hand of Kriemhild. 
Her brethren, only too anxious to be rid of her accusing 
presence, gladly consented to the match, but Hagen had 
forebodings that if she gained power she would wreak a 
dreadful vengeance on them all. But he was overruled, 
and Rudiger was permitted to interview Kriemhild. At 
first she would not hear of the marriage, but when Rudiger 
expressed his surprise at the manner in which she was 
treated in her own country, and hinted that if she were to 
wed with Etzel she would be guarded against such insult¬ 
ing conduct, she consented. But first she made Rudiger 
swear to avenge her wrongs, and this he did lightly, 
thinking it merely a woman’s whim which would pass 
away after marriage. She accompanied Rudiger to the 
court of Etzel, stopping ^t his castle of Bechlarn, where 
dwelt his wife Gotelind and his daughter Dietlinde. The 
journey to Vienna is described in detail. At length they 
met Etzel at Tulna with twenty-four kings and princes in 
his train and a mighty retinue, the greatest guest present 
being Dietrich of Bern, King of the Goths, who with his 
band of Wolfings was sojourning at the court of Etzel. 
The nuptials took place at Vienna amid great magnifi¬ 
cence, but through all Kriemhild sorrowed only for 

285 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Siegfried and brooded long and darkly on her schemes of 
vengeance. 

Seven years passed, during which Kriemhild won the 
love of all Etzel’s court. She bore the King a son, Ort- 
lieb, and gained the confidence and respect of his advisers. 
Another six years passed, and Kriemhild believed that 
the time for vengeance had now arrived. To this end she 
induced Etzel to invite her brethren and Hagen to his 
court at Vienna. At first the Burgundians liked the 
hospitable message well, but suspicion of it was sown in 
their minds by Hagen, who guessed that treachery lurked 
beneath its honeyed words. In the end they accepted the 
invitation and journeyed to the land of the Huns, a 
thousand and sixty knights and nine thousand soldiers. 
On the way they encountered many ill omens. 

The Journey 

Through Eastern Frankland rode Gunther’s men toward 
the river Main, led by Hagen, for well he knew the way. 
All men wondered when they saw the host, for never had 
any seen such lordly knights or such a rich and noble 
retinue. Well might one see that these were princes. On 
the twelfth day they came to the banks of the Danube, 
Hagen riding in the van. He dismounted on the river’s 
sandy shore and tied his steed to a tree. The river was 
swollen with rains and no boats were in sight. Now the 
Nibelungs could not perceive how they were to win over 
the stream, for it was broad and strong. 

And Hagen rebuked the King, saying : “ I’ll be with you, 
lord. See ye not that the river is swollen and its flood 
is mighty? Many a bold knight shall we lose here 
to-day.” 

“Not greatly do thy words help, Hagen,” spake the King. 
286 


The Journey 

46 Meeter were it for thee to search for a ford, instead of 
wasting thy breath.” 

But Hagen sneered back : 44 I am not yet weary of life, O 
king, and I wish not to drown in these broad waves. 
Better that men should die by my sword in Etzel’s land. 
Stay thou then by the water’s edge, whilst I seek a ferryman 
along the stream.” 

To and fro he sought a ferryman. Soon he heard a splash 
of water and hearkened. In a spring not far off some 
women were bathing. Hagen spied them and crept 
stealthily toward them. But they saw his approach and 
went swiftly away. Hagen, approaching, seized their 
clothes. 

Now these women were swan-maidens, or mermaids, and 
one of them, Hadburg, spake to him. “Sir Hagen,” she 
said, “ well wot I that ye wish to find a ferry. Now give 
to us our garments and we will show you where one is.” 
They breasted the waves like swans. Once more spake 
Hadburg: “ Safely will ye go to Etzel’s land and great 
honours will ye gain there; aye, greater than hero ever 
rode to find.” 

Right joyous was Hagen at this speech. Back he handed 
to the maidens their weeds. 

Then spake another mermaid, Sieglind: “ Take warning 
from me, Hagen. Believe not the word of mine aunt, for 
she has sore deceived thee. Go not to Etzel’s land, for 
there you shall die. So turn again. Whoso rideth onward 
hath taken death by the hand.” 

“ I heed not thy words,” said Hagen, “ for how should it 
be that all of us die there through the hate of anyone?” 

44 So must it be,” said Sieglind, 44 for none of you shall 
live, save the King’s chaplain, who alone will come again 
safe and sound to Gunther’s land.” 

287 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

“Ye are wise wives,” laughed Hagen bitterly. “Well 
would Gunther and his lords believe me should I tell him 
this rede. I pray thee, show us over the stream.” 

“So be it,” replied Sieglind; “since ye will not turn you 
from your journey. See you yonder inn by the water’s 
side ? There is the only ferry over the river.” 

At once Hagen made off. But Sieglind called after him : 
“ Stay, Sir Knight; credit me, you are too much in haste. 
For the lord of these lands, who is called Else, and his 
brother, Knight Gelfrat, will make it go hard with you an 
ye cross their dominions. Guard you carefully and deal 
wisely with the ferryman, for he is liegeman unto Gelfrat, 
and if he will not cross the river to you, call for him, and 
say thou art named Amelrich, a hero of this land who left 
it some time agone.” 

No more spake Hagen to the swan-maidens, but searching 
up the river banks, he found an inn upon the farther shore. 
Loudly he called across the flood. “ Come for me, 
ferryman,” he said, “and I will bestow upon thee an 
armlet of ruddy gold.” 

Now the ferryman was a noble and did not care for 
service, and those who helped him were as proud as he. 
They heard Hagen calling, but recked not of it. Loudly 
did he call across the water, which resounded to his cries. 
Then, his patience exhausted, he shouted: 

“ Come hither, for I am Amelrich, liegeman to Else, who 
left these lands because of a great feud.” As he spake he 
raised his spear, on which was an armlet of bright gold, 
cunningly fashioned. 

The haughty ferryman took an oar and rowed across, but 
when he arrived at the farther bank he spied not him who 
had cried for passage. 

At last he saw Hagen, and in great anger said : “ You may 
288 


The Journey 

be called Amelrich, but you are not like him whom I 
thought to be here, for he was my brother. You have lied 
to me and there you may stay.” 

Hagen attempted to impress the ferryman by kindness, 
but he refused to listen to his words, telling the warrior 
that his lords had enemies, wherefore he never conveyed 
strangers across the river. Hagen then offered him gold, 
and so angry did the ferryman become that he struck at 
the Nibelung with his rudder oar, which broke over 
Hagen’s head. But the warrior smote him so fiercely 
with his sword that he struck his head off and cast it on 
the ground. The skiff began to drift down the stream, 
and Hagen, wading into the water, had much ado to secure 
it and bring it back. With might and main he pulled, 
and in turning it the oar snapped in his hand. He 
then floated down stream, where he found his lords 
standing by the shore. They came down to meet him 
with many questionings, but Gunther, espying the blood 
in the skiff, knew well what fate the ferryman had met 
with. 

Hagen then called to the footmen to lead the horses into 
the river that they might swim across. All the trappings 
and baggage were placed in the skiff, and Hagen, playing 
the steersman, ferried full many mighty warriors into the 
unknown land. First went the knights, then the men-at- 
arms, then followed nine thousand footmen. By no means 
was Hagen idle on that day. 

On a sudden he espied the king’s chaplain close by the 
chapel baggage, leaning with his hands upon the relics, 
and recalling that the wise women had told him that only 
this priest would return and none other of the Nibelungs, 
he seized him by the middle and cast him from the skiff 
into the Danube. 


T 


289 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

“ Hold, Sir Hagen, hold ! ” cried his comrades. Giselher 
grew wroth; but Hagen only smiled. 

Then said Sir Gernot of Burgundy: “ Hagen, what 
availeth you the chaplain’s death ? Wherefore have ye 
slain the priest? ” 

But the clerk struck out boldly, for he wished to save his 
life. But this Hagen would not have and thrust him to 
the bottom. Once more he came to the surface, and this 
time he was carried by the force of the waves to the sandy 
shore. Then Hagen knew well that naught might avail 
against the tidings which the mermaids had told him, that 
not a Nibelung should return to Burgundy. 

When the skiff had been unloaded of baggage and all the 
company had been ferried across, Hagen broke it in 
pieces and cast it into the flood. When asked wherefore 
he had done so, and how they were to return from the 
land of the Huns back to the Rhine, Hagen said: 
“Should we have a coward on this journey who would 
turn his back on the Huns, when he cometh to this stream 
he will die a shameful death.” 

In passing through Bavaria the Burgundians came into 
collision with Gelfrat and his brother Else, and Gelfrat 
was slain. They were received at Bechlarn by Rudiger, 
who treated them most hospitably and showered many 
gifts upon them, bestowing upon Gernot his favourite 
sword, on Gunther a noble suit of armour, and on Hagen 
a famous shield. He accompanied the strangers to the 
court of Etzel, where they were met first of all by 
Dietrich of Bern, who warned them that Kriemhild 
prayed daily for vengeance upon them for the murder 
of Siegfried. When Kriemhild beheld Hagen, her arch¬ 
enemy, she wept. Hagen saw, and “ bound his helmet 
tighter.” 

290 


Kriemhild’s Welcome 

“ We have not made a good journey to this feast,” he 
muttered. 

Kriemhild's Welcome 

“Ye are welcome, nobles and knights,” said Kriemhild. 
“ I greet you not for your kinship. What bring ye me 
from Worms beyond the Rhine that ye should be so wel¬ 
come to me here? Where have ye put the Nibelung 
treasure ? It is mine as ye know full well, and ye should 
have brought it me to EtzePs court.” 

Hagen replied that he had been ordered by his liege 
lords to sink it in the Rhine, and there must it lie till 
doomsday. 

At this Kriemhild grew wroth. Hagen went on to say 
that he had enough to do to carry his shield and breast¬ 
plate. The Queen, alarmed, desired that all weapons 
should be placed in her charge, but to this Hagen 
demurred, and said that it was too much honour for such 
a bounteous princess to bear his shield and other arms to 
his lodging. 

Kriemhild lamented, saying that they appeared to think 
that she planned treachery against them; but to this 
Dietrich answered in great anger that he had forewarned 
Gunther and his brothers of her treacherous intentions. 
Kriemhild was greatly abashed at this, and without 
speaking a word she left the company; but ere she went 
she darted furious glances upon them, from which they 
well saw with what a dangerous foe they had to deal. 
King Etzel then asked who Hagen might be, and was 
told his name and lineage and that he was a fierce and 
grim warrior. Etzel then recognized him as a warrior 
who had been a hostage with him along with Walthar of 
Spain and who had done him yeoman service. 


291 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Events March 

This last passage connects the Nibelungenlied with the 
Latin poem of Walthar of Aquitaine. Indeed, the great 
German epic contains repeated allusions to this work of 
the ninth or tenth century, which is dealt with later in 
this book. Events now march quickly. Kriemhild 
offered gold untold to him who would slay Hagen, but 
although her enemy was within her grasp, so doughty 
was the warrior and so terrible his appearance that none 
dared do battle with him. A Hun was killed by accident 
in a tournament, but Etzel protected his Burgundian 
guests. At length Blodelin was bribed by Kriemhild to 
attack Dankwart with a thousand followers. Dankwart’s 
men were all slain, but he himself made good his escape 
by fighting his way through the closely packed Hunnish 
ranks. Dankwart rushed to the hall where the Bur¬ 
gundians were feasting with the Huns, and in great wrath 
acquainted Hagen with the treacherous attempt which had 
been made upon his life. 

“ Haste ye, brother Hagen,” he cried, “ for as ye sit there 
our knights and squires lie slain in their chambers.” 

“ Who hath done this deed ? ” asked Hagen. 

“ Sir Blodelin with his carles. But he breathes no longer, 
for myself I parted his head from his body.” 

“ If he died as a warrior, then it is well for him,” replied 
the grim Hagen ; “ but, brother Dankwart, ye are red 
with blood.” 

“ ’Tis but my weeds which ye see thus wet,” said 
Dankwart carelessly. “ The blood is that of other men, 
so many in sooth that I could not give ye tale of the 
number.” 

“ Guard the door, brother,” said Hagen fiercely; “ guard 
292 


The Beginning of the Slaughter 

it yet so that not a single Hun may escape. I will hold 
parley with these brave warriors who have so foully slain 
defenceless men.” 

“ Well will I guard the doorway,” laughed Dankwart; 
“ I shall play ye the part of chamberlain, brother, in this 
great business.” 

The Beginning of the Slaughter 
Hagen, mortally incensed at the slaughter of the Bur¬ 
gundians by the Huns, and wrongly suspecting Etzel 
of conspiracy in the affair, drew his sword, and with one 
blow of the weapon smote off the head of young Ortlieb, 
the son of Etzel and Kriemhild. Then began a slaughter 
grim and great. The Huns fought at first in self- 
defence, but as they saw their friends fall they laid on 
in good earnest and the combat became general. At 
length Dietrich of Bern, as a neutral, intervened, and 
succeeded in bringing about a half-truce, whereby Etzel, 
Kriemhild, and Rudiger were permitted to leave the hall, 
the remainder of Etzel’s attendants being slaughtered 
like sheep. In great wrath Etzel and Kriemhild offered 
heavy bribes to any who would slay Hagen. Several 
attempts were made, but without avail; and the terrible 
conflict continued till nightfall, when a truce was called. 
From his place of vantage in the hall Giselher reproached 
his sister with her treachery, and Kriemhild offered to 
spare her brothers if they would consent to give up 
Hagen. But this offer they contemptuously refused, 
holding death preferable to such dishonour. Kriemhild, 
in her bitter hate, set the hall on fire, and most of the 
Burgundians perished in the conflagration. Kriemhild 
and the Huns were astounded, however, when in the 
morning they discovered six hundred of the Burgundians 

2 93 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

were still alive. The queen appealed to Rudiger to 
complete the slaughter, but he, aghast at the idea of 
attacking friends whom he had sworn to protect, was 
about to refuse, when Kriemhild reminded him of his 
oath to her. With sorrow he proceeded to fulfil his 
promise, and Giselher, seeing his approach, imagined he 
came as an ally. But Rudiger promptly disillusioned 
him. The Burgundians were as loath to attack Rudiger 
as he them, and Hagen and he exchanged shields. The 
combat recommenced, and great was the slaughter of the 
Burgundians, until Gernot and Rudiger came together 
and slew one another. At this, Wolfhart, Dietrich of 
Bern’s lieutenant, led his men against the Burgundians to 
avenge Rudiger’s death, and Giselher and Wolfhart slew 
one another. Volker and Dankwart were also slain. At 
length all were dead save Gunther and Hagen, whom 
Dietrich accosted and whom he offered to save. But 
this offer Hagen refused. Then the Lord of Bern grew 
wroth. 

Dietrich Intervenes 

Dietrich then donned his armour and was assisted to 
accoutre himself by Hildebrand. He felt a heroic mood 
inspire him, a good sword was in his hand, and a stout 
shield was on his arm, and with the faithful Hildebrand 
he went boldly thence. 

Hagen espied him coming and said: “Yonder I see Sir 
Dietrich. He desires to join battle with us after his great 
sorrow. To-day shall we see to whom must go the palm. 
I fear him not. Let him come on.” 

This speech was not unheard of Dietrich and Hildebrand, 
for Hagen came to where he found the hero leaning against 
the wall of the house. Dietrich set his shield on the ground 
294 


Dietrich Intervenes 

and in woeful tones said : “ O king, wherefore have ye 
treated me so ? All my men are gone, I am bereft of all 
good, Knight Rudiger the brave and true is slain. Why 
have ye done these things? Never should I have worked 
you such sorrow. Think on yourselves and on your wrongs. 
Do ye not grieve for the death of your good kinsmen? 
Ah, how I mourn the fall of Rudiger! Whatsoever joy 
I have known in life that have ye slain. It is not for me 
to sorrow if my kin be slain.” 

“ How so, Dietrich ? ” asked Hagen. “ Did not your men 
come to this hall armed from head to heel with intent to 
slay us ? ” 

Then spake Dietrich of Bern. “ This is fate’s work and 
not the doing of man,” said the hero. “ Gunther, thou 
hast fought well. Yield thee now as hostage, no shame 
shall it be to thee. Thou shalt find me true and faithful 
with thee.” 

“Nay, God forbid,” cried Hagen; “I am still unfettered 
and we are only two. Would ye have me yield me after 
such a strife?” 

“ Yet would I save thy life, brave and noble Hagen,” said 
Dietrich earnestly. “ Yield thee, I beg, and I will convoy 
thee safe home to Rhineland.” 

“Nay, cease to crave this thing,” replied Hagen angrily. 
“Such a tale shall never be told of me. I see but two of 
ye, ye and Hildebrand.” 

Hildebrand, addressing Hagen, then said that the hour 
would come when he would gladly accept the truce his 
lord offered, but Hagen in reply twitted Hildebrand with 
the manner in which he had fled from the hall. Dietrich 
interrupted them, saying that it ill beseemed heroes to 
scold like ancient beldams, and forbade Hildebrand to 
say more. Then, seeing that Hagen was grim of mood, 

295 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Dietrich snatched up his shield. A moment later Hagen’s 
sword rang on his helm, but the Lord of Bern guarded 
him well against the dreadful blows. Warily did he 
guard him against Hagen’s mighty falchion Balmung. 
At last he dealt Hagen a wound deep and wide. But he 
did not wish to slay him, desiring rather to have such a 
hero as hostage. Casting away his shield, in his arms he 
gripped Hagen of Trony, who, faint from loss of blood, 
was overthrown. At that Gunther began to wail greatly. 
Dietrich then bound Hagen and led him to where stood 
Kriemhild^and gave him into her hand. Right merry was 
she at the sight and blessed Dietrich, bowing low before 
him, telling him that he had requited her of all her woes, 
and that she would serve him until death. 

But Dietrich begged Hagen’s life of the Queen, telling 
her that he would requite her of all that he had done 
against her. “Let him not suffer,” said he, “because 
you see him stand there bound.” But she ordered that 
Hagen be led away to durance. 

Dietrich then went to where Gunther stood in the hall 
and engaged him in strife. Loudly rang the swords as 
the two heroes circled in fight, dealing mighty blows on 
each other’s helm, and men there had great wonder how 
Sir Dietrich did not fall, so sorely angry was Gunther for 
the loss of Hagen. But the King’s blood was seen to 
ooze through his armourings, and as he grew fainter 
Dietrich overcame him as he had done Hagen and bound 
him. Then was he too taken before Kriemhild, and once 
again the noble Dietrich begged a life from the Queen. 
This she gladly promised, but treachery was in her heart. 
Then went she to Hagen and said to him that if he would 
return the Nibelungs’ treasure to her he might still go 
home safe and sound to Burgundy. The grim champion 
296 


The Death of Hagen & Kriemhild 

answered that she wasted her words, and that he had 
sworn an oath not to show the hoard while any of his 
lords still lived. At that answer a terrible thought 
entered the mind of Kriemhild, and without the least 
compunction she ordered that her brother Gunther’s life 
be taken. They struck off his head like that of a common 
malefactor, and by the hair she carried it to the Knight of 
Trony. Full sorrowfully he gazed upon it, then turning 
his eyes away from the haggard and distorted features, he 
said to Kriemhild: 

“ Dead is the noble King of Burgundy, and Giselher, and 
Gernot also. Now none knoweth of the treasure save me, 
and it shall ever be hid from thee, thou fiend.” 

The Death of Hagen and Kriemhild 
Greatly wroth was Kriemhild when she heard that her 
stratagem had come to naught. “ Full ill have ye requited 
me, Sir Hagen,” she cried fiercely, and drawing the sword 
of Siegfried from its sheath, she raised it with both hands 
and struck off the Burgundian’s head. 

Amazed and sorrowful was King Etzel when he saw this. 
“ Alas,” cried he, “ that such a hero should die bound and 
by the hands of a woman. Here lieth the best of knights 
that ever came to battle or bore a shield. Sorely doth 
this deed grieve me, however much I was his foe.” 

Then spake old Hildebrand, full of horror that such a 
thing had come to pass. “ Little shall it profit her that 
she hath slain him so foully,” he cried; “whatever hap to 
me, yet will I avenge bold Hagen.” 

With these words he rushed at Kriemhild. Loudly did 
she cry out, but little did that avail her, for with one great 
stroke Hildebrand clove her in twain. The victims of 
fate lay still. Sorely wept Dietrich and Etzel. So ended 

297 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

the high feast in death and woe. More is not to be said. 
Let the dead rest. Thus fell the Nibelungs, thus was 
accomplished the fate of their house! 

The place of origin of the Nibelungenlied is much disputed, 
a number of scholars arguing for its Scandinavian genesis, 
but it may be said that the consensus of opinion among 
modern students of the epic is that it took its rise in 
Germany, along the banks of the Rhine, among the 
Frankish division of the Teutonic folk. Place-names 
lend colour to this assumption. Thus in the Odenwald 
we have a Siegfried Spring; a Brunhild Bed is situated 
near Frankfort; there is a Hagen Well at Lorch, and the 
Drachenfels, or Dragon’s Rock, is on the banks of the 
Rhine. Singularly enough, however, if we desire a full 
survey of the Nibelungenlied story, we have to supple¬ 
ment it from earlier versions in use among the peoples of 
Scandinavia and Iceland. These are distinctly of a more 
simple and early form than the German versions, and it is 
to be assumed that they represent the original Nibelungen¬ 
lied story, which was preserved faithfully in the North, 
whereas the familiarity of its theme among the Southern 
Teutons caused it to be altered again and again for the 
sake of variety, until to some extent it lost its original 
outline. Moreover, such poems as the Norse Volsunga 
Saga and Thidreks Saga , not to speak of other and lesser 
epics, afford many details relating to the Nibelungenlied 
which it does not contain in its present form. It may be 
interesting to give a summary of the Volsunga Saga , 
which is a prose paraphrase of the Edda Songs. 

The Volsunga Saga 

The epic deals with the history of the treasure of the 
Nibelungs, and tells how a certain Hreithmar had it given 
298 


The Volsunga Saga 

him by the god Loki as a weregild for the slaying of the 
former’s son, Otur or Otter, who occasionally took the 
shape of that animal. Loki in his turn obtained the ransom 
from the dwarf Andwari,who had stolen it from the river- 
gods of the Rhine. The dwarf, incensed at losing the 
treasure, pronounced a most dreadful curse upon it 
and its possessors, saying that it would be the death 
of those who should get hold of it. Thus Hreithmar, 
its first owner, was slain in his sleep by his son 
Fafnir, who carried the treasure away to the Gnita 
Heath, where, having taken the form of a dragon, he 
guarded it. 

The treasure—and the curse—next passed into the keeping 
of Sigurd (the Norse form of Siegfried), a descendant of 
the race of the Volsungs, a house tracing its genealogy 
back to the god Woden. The full story of Sigurd’s 
ancestry it is unnecessary to deal with here, as it has 
little influence on the connexion of the story of the Vol¬ 
sungs with the Nibelungenlied . Sigurd came under the 
tutelage of Regin, the son of Hreithmar and brother of 
Fafnir, received the magic steed Grani from the king, and 
then was requested by Regin to assist him in obtaining 
the treasure guarded by Fafnir. After forging a sword 
for himself out of the fragments of a blade left by his 
father Siegmund, he avenged his father’s death and then 
set out to attack Fafnir. Meeting Woden, he was 
advised by the god to dig a ditch in the dragon’s path. 
Encountering Fafnir, he slew him and the dragon’s blood 
ran into the ditch, without which he would have been 
drowned by the flood of gore from the monster. As the 
dragon died he warned Sigurd against the treasure and 
its curse and against Regin, who, he said, was planning 
Sigurd’s death. 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

When Regin saw that the dragon was quite dead, he 
crept from his hiding-place and quaffed its blood. Then, 
cutting out the heart, he begged Sigurd to roast it for 
him. In this operation Sigurd burnt his fingers and in¬ 
stinctively thrust them in his mouth, thus tasting of the 
dragon’s blood, whereupon he was' surprised to find that 
he comprehended the language of the birds. Hearkening 
intently to the strange, new sounds, he learned that if he 
himself should eat the heart, then he would be wiser than 
anyone in the world. The birds further betrayed Regin’s 
evil intentions, and advised Sigurd to kill him. Seeing 
his danger, Sigurd went to where Regin was and cut off 
his head and ate Fafnir’s heart. Following once again 
the advice of the birds, he brought the treasure from the 
cave and then journeyed to the mountain Hindarfjall, 
where he rescued the sleeping Valkyr, Brynhild or 
Brunhild, who had been pierced by the sleep-thorn of 
Woden and lay in slumber clad in full armour within a 
castle, surrounded by a hedge of flame. Mounting his 
horse Grani, Sigurd rode through the fiery obstacle to the 
gate of the castle. He entered it, and, finding the maiden 
asleep, cut the armour from her with his sword—for during 
her long slumber it had become very tight upon her. 
Brunhild hailed him with joy, for she had vowed never to 
marry a man who knew fear. She taught Sigurd much 
wisdom, and finally they pledged their troth. He then 
departed, after promising to remain faithful to her. 

On his travels he arrived at the court of Giuki or 
Gibicho, a king whose domains were situated on the 
Lower Rhine. Three sons had he, Gunnar, Hogni, and 
Gutthorm, and a daughter Gudrun, a maiden of exquisite 
beauty. His queen bore the name of Grimhild, and was 
deeply versed in magical science, but was evil of nature. 
300 



Sigurd is instructed by the Birds 

Ferd. Lecke 


300 
























The Volsunga Saga 

They received Sigurd with much honour. Grimhild knew 
of his relations with Brunhild, and gave him a potion which 
produced forgetfulness of the war-maiden, so that he 
accepted the hand of Gudrun which Giuki offered him. 
The marriage was celebrated with great splendour, and 
Sigurd remained at Giuki’s court, much acclaimed for his 
deeds of skill and valour. 

Grimhild meanwhile urged upon her son Gunnar to sue for 
the hand of Brunhild. He resolved to accept her advice and 
set out to visit her, taking with him Sigurd and a few 
other friends. He first visited Brunhild’s father Budli, 
and afterward her brother-in-law Heimir, from whom he 
heard that Brunhild was free to choose the man she desired, 
but that she would espouse no one who had not ridden 
through the hedge of flame. They proceeded to Brun¬ 
hild’s castle. Gunnar attempted to pierce the flames, but 
was unable to do so even when seated on Sigurd’s horse, 
for Grani would not stir, knowing well that it was not his 
master who urged him on. At last they made use of a 
potion that had been given them by Grimhild, and Sigurd, 
in the shape of Gunnar, rode through the wall of fire. He 
explained to the war-maiden that he was the son of Giuki 
and had come to claim her hand. The destiny laid upon 
her by Woden compelled her to consent, but she did so 
with much reluctance. Sigurd then passed three nights 
at her side, placing his sword Gram between them as a bar 
of separation; but at parting he drew from her finger the 
ring with which he had originally plighted his troth to 
her, and replaced it with another taken from Fafnir’s 
hoard. Shortly afterward the wedding of Gunnar and 
Brunhild was celebrated with lavish splendour, and they 
all returned to Giuki’s court. 


301 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 


The Quarrel of Brunhild and Gudrun 
Matters progressed happily for some time, until one 
day Brunhild and Gudrun went to bathe in the river* 
Brunhild refused to bathe farther down the stream than 
Gudrun—that is, in the water which flowed from Gudrun 
to her—asserting that her husband was the son of a king, 
while Sigurd had become a menial. Gudrun retorted to 
her sister-in-law that not Gunnar, but Sigurd had pene¬ 
trated the hedge of fire and had taken from her the ring, 
which she then showed to Brunhild in proof of her words. 
A second and even more disturbing conversation followed, 
which served only to increase the hatred between the 
women, and Brunhild planned a dreadful vengeance. She 
feigned illness, retired to her bed, and when Gunnar 
inquired what ailed her, asked him if he recalled the cir¬ 
cumstances of their wooing, and how Sigurd, and not he, 
rode through the flames to win her. So furious was she 
at the dreadful insult which had been placed upon her by 
Gudrun that she attempted to take Gunnar’s life. She 
still loved Sigurd, and could never forgive Gunnar and his 
sister for robbing her of him. So terrible was her grief 
that she sank into a deep slumber in which she remained 
for seven days, no one daring to waken her. Finally 
Sigurd succeeded in doing so, and she lamented to him 
how cruelly she had been deceived; she declared that he 
and she had been destined for one another, and that now 
she had received for a husband a man who could not 
match with him. Sigurd begged her not to harbour a 
grudge against Gunnar, and told her of his mighty deeds 
—how that he had slain the king of the Danes, and also 
the brother of Budli, a great warrior—but Brunhild did 
not cease to lament, and planned Sigurd’s death, threaten- 
302 


Gudrun’s Adventure 

ing Gunnar with the loss of his dominions and his life if 
he would not kill Sigurd. Gunnar hesitated for a long 
time, but at length consented, and calling Hogni, ordered 
him to slay Sigurd that they might thus obtain the treasure 
of the Rhinegold. Hogni was aghast at this, and re¬ 
minded him that they had pledged their oaths to Sigurd. 
Then Gunnar remembered that his brother Gutthorm had 
sworn no oath of loyalty to Sigurd, and so might perform 
the deed. They plied him with wolf and snake meat to 
eat,fso that he might become savage by nature, and they 
tried to excite his greed with tales of the Rhinegold 
treasure. Twice did Gutthorm make the attempt as 
Sigurd lay in bed, but twice he was deterred from slaying 
him by the hero’s penetrating glance. The third time, 
however, he found him asleep and pierced him with his 
sword. Sigurd awoke and hurled his own sword after 
Gutthorm, cutting him in two. He then died, stating that 
he knew Brunhild to be the instigator of the murder. 
Gudrun’s grief was frantic, and at this Brunhild laughed 
aloud as if with joy; but later she became more grief- 
stricken than Sigurd’s wife herself, and determined to be 
done with life. Donning her richest array, she pierced 
herself with a sword. As she expired she requested to be 
burned on Sigurd’s funeral pyre, and also prophesied that 
Gudrun would marry Atli, and that the death of many 
heroes would be caused thereby. 

Gudrun s Adventure 

Gudrun in her great sorrow fled to the court of King 
Half of Denmark, at which she tarried for seven years. 
Her mother Grimhild learned of her place of concealment 
and attempted to bring about a reconciliation between her 
and Gunnar. She was offered much treasure if she would 

303 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

marry Atli, King of the Huns, and finally she consented. 
Atli became covetous of Gunnar’s wealth—for the latter 
had taken possession of the Rhinegold—and invited him 
to his court. But Gudrun sent a message of warning to 
her brother. The runes which composed this, however, 
were so manipulated by Vingi, one of the messengers, 
that they read as a harmless invitation instead of a 
warning, and this Gunnar and Hogni determined to 
accept. They reached Atli’s court in due season, and as 
they arrived Vingi disclosed his true character, stating 
that he had lured them into a snare. Hogni slew him, 
and as they rode to Atli’s dwelling the Hunnish king 
and his sons armed themselves for battle and demanded 
Sigurd’s treasure, which they declared belonged by right 
to Gudrun. Gunnar refused to part with it, and a great 
combat began. Gudrun armed herself and fought on 
the side of her brothers. A fierce battle raged with 
great loss on both sides, until nearly all the Nibelungs 
were slain, and Gunnar and Hogni, forced to yield to the 
power of numbers, were captured and bound. 

Gunnar was now asked if he would purchase his life with 
the treasure, and he replied eventually that he would 
do so if he were given Hogni’s heart. To humour his 
request the Huns cut out the heart of a slave and brought 
it to him ; but Gunnar saw through the stratagem and 
recognized the heart as that of a coward. They then cut 
out Hogni’s heart, and Gunnar, seeing that this was 
indeed the heart of a prince, was glad, for now he alone 
knew where the treasure of the Rhinegold was hid, and 
he vowed that Atli should never know of its whereabouts. 
In great wrath the Hunnish monarch ordered Gunnar to 
be thrown into a pit of snakes. His hands were bound, 
yet the hero from the Rhine played so exquisitely with his 
304 


Comparisons between the Epics 

toes on a harp which Gudrun had sent to him that he 
lulled to sleep all the reptiles—with the exception of an 
adder, which stung him to the heart so that he died. 

Atli, spurning the bodies of the fallen, turned to Gudrun, 
saying that she alone was to blame for what had happened. 
That evening she killed her two sons, Erp and Eitil, and 
served their flesh at the banquet which the King was 
giving for his warriors. When Atli asked for the boys 
to be brought to him, he was told that he had drunk their 
blood in his wine and had eaten their hearts. 

That night, while he slept, Gudrun took Hogni’s son 
Hnifling, who desired to avenge his slaughtered father, 
and entering Atli’s chamber, the young man thrust a 
sword through the breast of the Hunnish king. He 
awoke through the pain of his wound, and was informed 
by Gudrun that she was his murderess. He bitterly 
reproached her, only to be told that she cared for no one 
but Sigurd. Atli’s last request was that his obsequies 
should be such as were fitting for a king, and to ensure 
that he had proper funeral rites Gudrun set fire to his 
castle and burnt his body together with those of his dead 
retainers. 

The further adventures of Gudrun are related in certain 
songs in the Edda , but the Volsunga Saga proper ends 
with the death of Atli. 

Comparisons between the Epics 
We see from this account that the Volsunga Saga presents 
in many respects an older form of the Nibelungenlied 
story. Sigurd is the same as Siegfried; Gunnar, Hogni, 
and Gudrun are parallels with Gunther, Hagen, and 
Kriemhild—although, strangely enough, that name is also 
borne by Gudrun’s mother in the Volsunga Saga . We 

u 305 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

will recall that the events detailed in the first part of 
the lay of the Volsungs are vaguely alluded to in the 
Nibelungenlied ,, which assures us that the connexion we 
have thus drawn is a correct one. 

Myth or History ? 

We come now to the vexed question as to whether the 
Nibelungenlied is mythical or historical in origin. This 
question has been approached by certain scholars who, 
because of their lack of mythological knowledge, have 
rendered themselves ridiculous in attempting elucidations 
on a purely historical basis. An entirely mythological 
origin is not here pleaded for the Nibelungenlied, but it 
should surely be recognized, even by the historian who is 
without mythological training, that no story of any antiquity 
exists which does not contain a substantial substratum of 
mythical circumstance. So speedy is the crystallization 
of myth around the nucleus of historical fact, and so 
tenacious is its hold, that to disentangle it from the 
factors of reality is a task of the most extreme difficulty, 
requiring careful handling by scholars who possess a wide 
and accurate knowledge of mythological processes. Even 
to-day, when students of history have recovered from the 
first shock of the intrusion into their domain of the 
mythologist and the folklorist, so much remains to be 
effected in the disentanglement of what is believed to be 
absolute historical fact from the mythical growths which 
surround it that, were they conscious of the labour which 
yet remains in this respect, even the most advanced of our 
present-day historians would stand aghast at the task 
which awaits their successors. 

In the Nibelungenlied we have a case in point. What 
the exact mythological elements contained in it represent 
3°6 


The Historical Theory 

it would indeed be difficult to say. Students of the 
Mullerian school have seen in Siegfried a sun-god, who 
awakens Brunhild, a nature goddess. This aspect is not 
without its likelihood, for in one passage Brunhild tells 
how Odin thrust into her side a thorn—evidently the 
sharp sting of icy winter—and how the spell rendered her 
unconscious until awakened by Siegfried. There are 
many other mythological factors in the story, and either a 
diurnal or seasonal myth may be indicated by it. But it 
would require a separate volume to set forth the argu¬ 
ments in favour of a partial mythological origin of the 
Nibelungenlied . One point is to be especially observed— 
a point which we have not so far seen noted in a contro¬ 
versy where it would have seemed that every special 
circumstance had been laboured to the full—and that 
is that, besides mythological matter entering into the 
original scheme of the Nibelungenlied , a very considerable 
mass of mythical matter has crystallized around it since it 
was cast into its first form. This will be obvious to any 
folklorist of experience who will take the trouble to 
compare the Scandinavian and German versions. 

The Historical Theory 

Abeling and Boer, the most recent protagonists of the 
historical theory, profess to see in the Nibelungenlied the 
misty and confused traditions of real events and people. 
Abeling admits that it contains mythical elements, but 
identifies Siegfried with Segeric, son of the Burgundian 
king Sigismund, Brunhild with the historical Brunichildis, 
and Hagen with a certain Hagnerius. The basis of the 
story, according to him, is thus a medley of Burgundian 
historical traditions round which certain mythological 
details have crystallized. The historical nucleus is the 

307 


Hero Tales &> Legends of the Rhine 

overthrow of the Burgundian kingdom of Gundahar by 
the Huns in a.d. 436. Other events, historical in them¬ 
selves, were torn from their proper epochs and grouped 
around this nucleus. Thus the murder of Segeric, which 
happened eighty-nine years later, and the murder of 
Attila by his Burgundian wife Ildico, are torn from their 
proper historical surroundings and fitted into the story. 
Boer, on the other hand, will not have it that there is any 
mythology at all in the Nibelungenlied, , and, according to 
him, the nucleus of the legend is an old story of the 
murder of relatives. This became grafted on the Siegfried 
legend according to some authorities, but Boer will not 
admit this, and presents a number of arguments to 
disprove the mythical character of the Siegfried story. 
The reasoning is ingenious, but by no means valuable. 
We know that the mythologies of the ancient Germans 
and the Scandinavians were in many respects, though not 
in all, one and the same system, and we find many of the 
characters of the Nibelungenlied among the divine beings 
alluded to in the Edda. It is unlikely that the dramatis 
personae of a German murder story would find its way 
into even the most decadent form of Scandinavian belief. 
There is every reason to conclude that a great many 
historical elements are to be discovered in the Nibel¬ 
ungenlied. , but to discount entirely those which are 
mythical is absurd and even more futile than it would be 
to deny that many of the incidents related in the great 
epic reflect in some measure historical events. 

The Klage 

The Klage , a sequel to the Nibelungenlied, recounts 
somewhat tamely the events which follow upon the dire 
catastrophe pictured in the great German epic. It is on 
3°8 


The Klage 

the whole more modern than the Lied, and most critics 
ascribe it to a period so late as the fourteenth century. It 
is highly artificial and inartistic, and Grimm points out 
that it is obvious that in penning it the author did not 
have the Nibelungenlied , as we know it, before him. As 
it is practically unknown to English-speaking readers, a 
risumi of it may not be out of place here. It describes 
the search among the dead bodies in the house of slaughter, 
the burying of them, the journey of EtzePs “ fiddler,” 
Swemmelin, to the Rhine by way of Bechlarn and Passau 
to give the tidings of the massacre to Queen Brunhild, his 
return, and the final parting from Etzel of Dietrich and his 
wife Herrat, who also take Bechlarn on their way. Level 
and poor as the narrative is, it reaches pathos in the de¬ 
scription of the arrival of the messengers at Bechlarn. To 
spare his niece (Gotelint) Dietrich tells them not to 
mention the terrible events which have happened, but to 
say that he and Rudiger will soon come to see her, or at 
all events himself. They are received with great rejoicing 
—Gotelint and her daughter think “ both to receive love 
without sorrow, as often before, from beloved glances.” 
The young margravine has a foreboding of evil at seeing 
the messengers so few—only seven. Then her mother 
tells her of an evil dream which she has had, and she in 
turn has to tell of another which has come to herself. 
Meanwhile the messengers are at hand, and are observed 
to be sad. They give to Rudiger’s wife the false tidings 
of peace which they have been instructed to relate, and 
the younger lady wonders that her father should have sent 
no message to herself specially. The ladies continue to 
question the messengers about Kriemhild : how has she 
received her brother ? what did she say to Hagen ? what 
to Gunther? How is it, asks the younger one, that 

309 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Giselher has sent her never a message ? Each lying 
answer costs the speaker more and more sorrow, and at 
last his tears begin to flow. The young margravine 
exclaims that there must be ill news, that evil has 
befallen them, and that the guests and her father must 
be dead. As she speaks one of the messengers can 
contain himself no longer, and a cry breaks with blood 
from his mouth. All his companions burst into tears at 
the same time. The margravine conjures them by their 
troth to tell how they parted from her husband, saying 
that the lie must have an end. “ Then spake the fiddler, 
Swemmelin the messenger: ‘ Lady, we wished to deny to 
you that which we yet must say, since no man could con¬ 
ceal it; after this hour, ye see Margrave Rudiger no more 
alive.’ ” The margravine, we are afterward told, dies of 
grief at the news, as does old Queen Ute at her abbey of 
Lors. Brunhild survives, and is prevailed upon by her 
vassals to have her son crowned. Etzel, after parting 
with Dietrich, loses his mind; according to another 
version, his fate remains altogether uncertain. Dietelint, 
the young margravine, is taken under Dietrich’s protec¬ 
tion, who promises to find her a husband. Bishop Pilgrin 
has the story written out in Latin letters, “ that men should 
deem it true.” A writer, Master Konrad, then began to 
set it down in writing; since then it has been often set to 
verse in Teuton tongues; old and young know well the 
tale. “ Of their joy and of their sorrow I now say to you 
no more; this lay is called Ein KlageE 

IValthar of Aquitaine 

One of the grandest and most heroic epics of the great 
age of romance is that of Walthar of Aquitaine. It is 
indissolubly connected with the Rhine and with the city 
3 10 


Walthar of Aquitaine 

of Worms because in the vicinity the hero whose feats 
of arms it celebrates fought his greatest battle. It was 
written in monkish Latin at any time between the eighth 
and ninth centuries, and is connected with later versions 
of the Nibelungenlied, which contains numerous allusions 
to it. Founded upon traditional materials collected and 
edited by some gifted occupant of the cloister, it opens in 
the grand manner by telling how the empire of the Huns 
had already lasted for more than a thousand years, when 
Attila invaded the territory of the Franks, ruled over by 
Gibicho. Gibicho, trembling for his throne, by the advice of 
his counsellors determined to pay tribute and give hostages 
to the terrible Hun; but as his son Gunther was too 
young to be sent as a hostage, he put in his place a noble 
youth named Hagen, and paying the invaders a great 
indemnity in treasure, thus secured the safety of his 
kingdom. The Huns then turned their attention to the 
Burgundians, whose king Herric had an only daughter, 
the beautiful Hildegund. Herric shut himself up in the 
town of Chalons, and calling together his ministers im¬ 
parted to them his deliberations. 

“ Since the Franks, who are so much stronger than we, 
have yielded,” he said, “how can we of Burgundy hope 
to triumph against such a host ? I will give my daughter 
Hildegund as a hostage to the Huns. Better that one should 
suffer than that the realm should be laid waste.” 

The Huns accepted Hildegund as a hostage, and with 
much treasure turned their faces westward to the kingdom 
of Aquitaine, whose king, Alphere, had an only son, 
Walthar, who was already affianced to Hildegund. He, 
too, had to give up his son as hostage and pay tribute. 
Although ruthless as an invader and cruel as a conqueror, 
Attila displayed the utmost kindness to the children. He 

3ii 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

treated them in every way as befitted their rank, and 
handing the girl over to the queen, had the boys trained 
in martial exercises and intellectual arts, till in a few 
years’ time they easily surpassed all of the Huns in every 
accomplishment that becomes a knight. So greatly did 
Attila’s queen trust the maiden, Hildegund, that she 
placed in her charge all the treasures Attila had won in 
war. Life was pleasant for the youthful hostages, but one 
day news came to the ear of Attila that Gibicho was dead 
and that Gunther was his successor. Learning this, Hagen 
succeeded in making his escape by night, and fearing that 
Walthar would follow his example, Attila’s queen sug¬ 
gested to her husband that he should marry the youthful 
warrior, who had greatly distinguished himself at the 
head of the Huns, to a Hunnish maiden. But Walthar 
had no mind for such a match and declared himself 
unworthy of marriage, urging that if wedded he might 
neglect his military duties, and declaring that nothing 
was so sweet to him as for ever to be busy in the faithful 
service of his lord. Attila, never doubting him, and 
lulled from all suspicion by further victories won by him 
over a rebellious people, dismissed the matter from his 
mind; but on returning from his successful campaign 
Walthar had speech with Hildegund on the subject of 
their betrothal, hitherto untouched between them. 

At first she thought that he merely mocked her, but he 
protested that he was weary of exile, was anxious to 
escape, and would have fled ere this but that it grieved 
him to leave her alone at the Hunnish court. Her reply 
is one characteristic of women in medieval days. 

“Let my lord command,” she said; “ I am ready for his 
love to bear evil hap or good.” 

She then provided him, out of the treasure-chests of 
3 12 


The Escape 

Attila, with helm, hauberk, and breast-plate. They filled 
two chests with Hunnish money in the shape of golden 
rings, placed four pairs of sandals on the top and several 
fish-hooks, and Walthar told Hildegund that all must be 
ready in a week’s time. 

The Escape 

On the seventh day after this Walthar gave a great feast 
to Attila, his nobles, and his household. He pressed food 
and wine on the Huns, and when their platters were clear 
and the tables removed, he handed to the king a splendid 
carven goblet, full to the brim of the richest and oldest 
wine. This Attila emptied at a draught, and ordered all 
his men to follow his example. Soon the wine overcame 
the Huns, who, pressed by Walthar, caroused so deeply 
that all were at last rendered unconscious. 

Walthar gave the sign to Hildegund, and they slipped 
from the hall and from the stable took his noble war- 
horse Lion, so named for his courage. They hung the 
treasure-chests like panniers on each flank of the charger, 
and taking with them some food for the journey, set off. 
Hildegund took the reins, Walthar in full armour sitting 
behind her. All night they did not draw rein, and during 
the day they hid in the gloomy woods. At every breath, 
at the snapping of a twig, or the chirping of a bird, Hilde¬ 
gund trembled. They avoided the habitations of men and 
skirted the mountains, where but few faces were to be seen, 
and so they made good their flight. 

But the Huns, roused from their drunken sleep, gazed 
around stupidly and cried loudly for Walthar, their boon 
companion as they thought, but nowhere was he to be 
found. The queen, too, missed Hildegund and, realizing 
that the pair had escaped, made loud wail through the 

313 


Hero Tales «§f Legends of the Rhine 

palace. Angry and bewildered, Attila could touch neither 
food nor drink. Enraged at the manner in which he had 
been deceived, he offered great gifts to him who would 
bring back Walthar in chains; but none of the Hunnish 
champions considered themselves fit for such a task, and 
at length the hue and cry ceased, and Walthar and Hilde- 
gund were left to make their way back to Aquitaine as 
best they could. 

Full of the thought that they were being pursued, Walthar 
and the maiden fled onward. He killed the birds of the 
wood and caught fish to supply them with food. His 
attitude to Hildegund was one of the deepest chivalry, 
and he was ever mindful for her comfort. Fourteen days 
had passed when at last, issuing from the darkness of 
the forest, they beheld the silver Rhine gleaming in the 
sunlight and spied the towers of Worms. At length he 
found a ferry, but, fearing to make gossip in the vicinity, 
he paid the ferryman with fishes, which he had previously 
caught. The ferryman, as it chanced, sold the fish to the 
king’s cook, who dressed them and placed them before 
his royal master. The monarch declared that there were 
no such fishes in France, and asked who had brought 
them to Worms. The ferryman was summoned, and 
related how he had ferried over an armed warrior, a fair 
maiden, and a great war-horse with two chests. Hagen, 
who sat at the king’s table, exclaimed full joyfully : 

“ Now will I avow that this is none other than my comrade 
Walthar returning from the Hunnish land.” 

“Say ye so?” retorted King Gunther. “ It is clear that 
by him the Almighty sends me back the treasure of my 
father Gibicho.” 

So ordered he a horse to be brought, and taking with 
him twelve of his bravest chiefs besides Hagen, who 
314 


The Cave 

sought in vain to dissuade him, he went in search of 
Walthar. 

The Cave 

Journeying from the banks of the Rhine, Walthar and 
the maiden had by this time reached the forest of the 
Vosges. They halted at a spot where between two hills 
standing close together is situated a pleasant and shady 
cave, not hollowed out in the earth, but formed by the 
beetling of the rocks, a fit haunt for bandits, carpeted 
with green moss. But little sleep had Walthar known 
since his escape from the Hunland, so, spying this cool 
retreat, he crept inside it to rest. Putting off his heavy 
armour, he placed his head on Hildegund’s lap, bidding 
her keep watch and wake him by a touch if she saw aught 
of danger. But the covetous Gunther had seen his tracks 
in the dust, and ever urging on his companions soon came 
near the cave where Walthar reposed. Hagen warned 
him of Walthar’s powers as a champion, and told him 
that he was too great a warrior to permit himself to 
be despoiled easily. 

Hildegund, noticing their approach, gently aroused 
Walthar, who put on his armour. At first she thought 
the approaching band were Huns pursuing them, and 
implored him to slay her; but Walthar smilingly bade her 
be of good cheer, as he had recognized Hagen’s helm. 
He was evidently aware, however, of the purpose for which 
he had been followed, and going to the mouth of the 
cave, he addressed the assembled warriors, telling them 
that no Frank should ever return to say that he had taken 
aught of his treasure unpunished. 

Hagen advised a parley in case Walthar should be ready 
to give up the treasure without bloodshed, and Camillo, 

315 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

the prefect of Metz, was sent to him for this purpose. 
Camillo told him that if he would give up his charger, 
the two chests, and the maiden, Gunther would grant him 
life; but Walthar laughed in his face. 

“ Go tell King Gunther,” he said, “ that if he will not 
oppose my passage I will present him with one hundred 
armlets of red metal.” 

Hagen strongly advised the king to accept the offer, for on 
the night before he had had an evil dream of a bear which 
tore off one of the king’s legs in conflict, and put out one 
of his own eyes when he came to Gunther’s aid. Gunther 
replied with a sneer, and Hagen, greatly humiliated, 
declared that he would share neither the fight nor the 
spoil. 

“There is your foe,” he said. “ I will stay here and see 
how you fare at his hands.” 

Now only one warrior could attack Walthar at a time. 
It is needless to go into details of his several conflicts, 
which are varied with very considerable skill and fancy, 
but all of which end in his triumph. The sixth cham¬ 
pion he had to meet was Patavrid, sister’s son to Hagen, 
who vainly endeavoured to restrain him, but who also 
was worsted, and after the fall of the next warrior the 
Franks themselves urged Gunther to end the combat; but 
he, furious at his want of success, only drove them to it 
the more vehemently. 

At last four of them made a combined attack on Walthar, 
but because of the narrowness of the path they could not 
come at him with any better success than could one single 
warrior, and they too were put out of the fight. 

Then Gunther was left alone and, fleeing to Hagen, 
besought him to come to his aid. Long did Hagen 
resist his entreaties, but at last he was moved by 
316 


The Cave 

Gunther’s description of the manner in which his kinsfolk 
had been slain by Walthar. Hagen’s advice was to lure 
Walthar into the open, when both should attack him, so 
Hagen and the king departed and selected a spot for an 
ambush, letting their horses go loose. 

Uncertain of what had passed between Hagen and the 
king, Walthar decided upon remaining in the cave till 
the morning, so after placing bushes around the mouth 
of the cave to guard against a surprise, he gave thanks to 
heaven for his victory. 

Rising from his knees, he bound together the six horses 
which remained, then, loosing his armour, comforted Hilde- 
gund as best he might and refreshed himself with food, 
after which he lay down upon his shield and requested 
the maiden to watch during his sleep. Although she was 
tired herself, Hildegund kept awake by singing in a low 
tone. After his first sleep Walthar rose refreshed, and 
bidding Hildegund rest herself, he stood leaning upon his 
spear, keeping guard at the cave-mouth. When morning 
had come he loaded four of the horses with spoils taken 
from the dead warriors, and placing Hildegund on the 
fifth, mounted the sixth himself. Then with great caution 
he sent forward first of all the four laden horses, then the 
maiden, and closed the rear with the horse bearing the 
two treasure-chests. 

For about a mile they proceeded thus, when, looking 
backward, Hildegund espied two men riding down the hill 
toward them and called to Walthar to flee. But that he 
would not do, saying: “ If honour falls, shame shall attend 
my last hour.” He bade her take the reins of Lion, his 
good charger, which carried the gold, and seek refuge in 
the neighbouring wood, while he ascended the hill to 
await his enemies. 


317 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Gunther advanced, hurling insulting epithets at the cham¬ 
pion, who ignored him, but turned to Hagen, appealing 
to their old friendship and to the recollections of the 
many hours of childhood they had spent together. He 
had thought that Hagen would have been the first to 
welcome him, would have compelled him to accept his 
hospitality, and would have escorted him peacefully to 
his father’s kingdom. If he would break his fealty to 
Gunther, said Walthar, he should depart rich, his shield 
full of red gold. Irritated at such an offer, Hagen replied 
that he would not be deluded, and that for Walthar’s 
slaying of his kinsmen he must have vengeance. So 
saying, he hurled his spear at Walthar, which the latter 
avoided. Gunther then cast a shaft which was equally 
harmless. Then, drawing their swords and covering 
themselves with their shields, the Franks sought to close 
with the Aquitainian, who kept them at bay with his 
spear. As their shorter swords could not reach past 
Walthar’s mighty shaft, Gunther attempted to recover 
the spear which he had cast and which lay before the 
hero’s feet, and told Hagen to go in front; but as he was 
about to pick it up from the ground Walthar perceived his 
device and, placing his foot upon it, flung Gunther on his 
knees, and would have slain him had not Hagen, rushing 
to his aid, managed to cover him with his shield. 

The struggle continued. The hot sunshine came down, 
and the champions were bathed in sweat. Walthar, tired 
of the strife, took the offensive, and springing at Hagen, 
with a great stroke of his spear carried away a part of 
his armour. Then with a marvellous blow of his sword 
he smote off the king’s leg as far as the thigh. He 
would have dispatched him with a second blow, but 
Hagen threw himself over Gunther’s body and received 
3i8 


Walthar kept them at bay with his spear 
Hiram Ellis 


318 







The Cave 

the sword-stroke on his own head. So well tempered 
was his helm that the blade flew in flinders, shivered to 
the handle. 

Instantly Walthar looked about him for another weapon, 
but quick as thought Hagen seized the opportunity and 
cut off his right hand, “ fearful to peoples and princes.” 
But, undismayed, the hero inserted the wounded stump 
into the shield, and drawing with his left hand a Hunnish 
half-sword girt to his right side, he struck at Hagen so 
fiercely that he bereft him of his right eye, cutting deep 
into the temple and lips and striking out six of his teeth. 
But neither might fight more: Gunther’s leg, Walthar’s 
hand, and Hagen’s eye lay on the ground. They sat 
down on the heath and stanched with flowers the flowing 
stream of their blood. They called to them Hildegund, 
who bound up their wounds and brought them wine. 
Wounded as they were, they cracked many a joke over 
their cups, as heroes should. 

“ Friend,” said Hagen, “ when thou huntest the stag, of 
whose leather mayest thou have gloves without end, 
I warn thee to fill thy right-hand glove with soft wool, 
that thou mayest deceive the game with the semblance 
of a hand. But what sayest thou to break the custom of 
thy people in carrying thy sword at thy right side and 
embracing thy wife with thy left arm ?” 

“Ha,” retorted Walthar, laughing grimly, “thou wilt 
have to greet the troops of heroes with a side glance. 
When thou gettest thee home, make thee a larded broth 
of milk and flour, which will both nourish and cure thee.” 
Then they placed on horseback the king, who was in 
sore pain. Hagen bore him back to Worms, whilst 
Walthar and Hildegund pursued their way to Aquitaine, 
and, on arrival, magnificently celebrated their wedding. 

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Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

For thirty years did Walthar rule his people after his 
father’s death. “What wars after this, what triumphs 
he ever had, behold, my blunted pen refuses to mark. 
Thou whosoever readest this, forgive a chirping cricket. 
Weigh not a yet rough voice but the age, since as yet 
she hath not left the nest for the air. This is the poem 
of Walthar. Save us, Jesus Christ.” 


320 


CHAPTER VII : HEIDELBERG 
TO SACKINGEN 

H EIDELBERG is known all over the world as one 
of Germany’s great university towns, as the site 
of an unrivalled if ruined schloss, and of a 
view at the junction of the Rhine with the Neckar 
which is one of the most famous in the world. It lies 
between lofty hills covered with vineyards and forests, 
flanked by handsome villas and gardens, and is crowned 
by its castle, which has suffered equally from siege and 
the elements, being partially blown up by the French in 
1609, an d struck by lightning in 1704. 

The Wolf's Spring 

The name of Jette, a beautiful prophetess of the ancient 
goddess Herthe, is linked with the neighbourhood of 
Heidelberg by the following tragic tale. 

When the old heathen gods and goddesses were still wor¬ 
shipped in the Rhine country, a certain priestess of Herthe 
took up her abode in an ancient grove, where she prac¬ 
tised her occult arts so successfully that the fame of her 
divinations spread far and wide, and men came from all 
parts of Europe to learn from her what the future had in 
store for them. Frequently a warrior left her abode with 
a consuming fire kindled in his breast which would rob 
him of sleep for many a long night, yet none dared to 
declare his love to her, for, lovely though she was, there 
was an air of austerity, an atmosphere of mysticism about 
her which commanded awe and reverence, and forbade 
even the smallest familiarity. 

One evening there came to the grove of Herthe a youth 
from a far distant land, seeking to know his destiny. All 
x 321 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

day he had journeyed thitherward, and the dusk had 
already fallen ere he reached the sacred spot. Jette sat 
on the glimmering altar-steps, clad in a flowing white 
robe, while on the altar itself burned a faint and fitful 
flame. The tall, slender trees, showing fantastic and 
ghostly in the fading light, made a fitting background for 
the gleaming shrine ; and the elusive, unearthly beauty of 
the priestess was quite in keeping with the magic scene. 
Her mantle of austerity had fallen from her; she had for¬ 
gotten that she was a prophetess; for the moment she was 
but a woman, full of grace and charm. The youth paused 
as though held by a spell. 

“Fair prophetess,” he said in a low voice, fearing to 
break in rudely upon her meditations, “wilt thou read me 
my fate? ” 

Jette, roused from her reverie, fixed her startled gaze on 
the handsome stranger, whose dark, burning eyes met 
hers in deepest admiration. Something stirred in her 
heart at the ardent glance, the thrilling tones, and her 
wonted composure deserted her. 

“Youth,” she faltered at length, “thou comest at a time 
when my prophetic skill hath failed me. Ere I tell thee 
thy fate I must offer sacrifice to Herthe. If thou wilt 
come to-morrow at this hour I will tell thee what the stars 
say concerning thy destiny.” 

It was true that her skill had deserted her under the ad¬ 
miring scrutiny of the young warrior, yet she delayed also 
because she wished to hear his voice again, to meet the 
ardent yet courteous glance of his dark eyes. 

“ I will return, O prophetess,” said he, and with that he 
was gone. 

Jette’s peace of mind had gone too, it seemed, for she 
could think of naught but the handsome stranger. 

3 22 


The Wolf’s Spring 

On the following evening he returned, and again she 
delayed to give him the information he sought. He was 
no less rejoiced than was Jette at the prospect of another 
meeting. 

On the third day the priestess greeted him with downcast 
eyes. 

“ I cannot read thy destiny, youth,” she said; “the stars 
do not speak plainly. Yet methinks thy star and mine 
are very close together.” She faltered and paused. 

“ Dost thou love me, Jette?” cried the young man joyfully. 
“Wilt thou be my bride?” 

The maiden’s blushing cheeks and downcast glance were 
sufficient answer. 

“ And wilt thou come with me to my tower ? ” pursued 
the youth eagerly. 

Jette started back in affright. 

“ Nay, that I cannot,” she cried. “ A priestess of Herthe 
is doomed an she marry. If I wed thee we must meet in 
secret and at night.” 

“ But I will take thee to Walhalla, and Freya shall appease 
Herthe with her offerings.” 

Jette shook her head. 

“Nay,” said she; “it is impossible. The vengeance of 
Herthe is swift—and awful. I will show thee a spring 
where we may meet.” 

She led him to a place where the stream branched off in 
five separate rivulets, and bade him meet her there on 
the following night at a certain hour. The lovers then 
parted, each full of impatience for the return of the hour of 
meeting. 

Next evening, when the dusk had fallen on the sacred 
grove of Herthe, Jette made her way to the rendezvous. 
The appointed time had not yet arrived, but scarcely had 

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Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

she reached the spot ere she fancied she heard a step 
among the undergrowth, and turned with a glad smile, 
prepared to greet her lover. Imagine her dismay when 
instead of the youth a grisly wolf confronted her! Her 
shriek of terror was uttered in vain. A moment later the 
monster had sprung at her throat. 

Her lover, hastening with eager steps toward the place of 
meeting, heard the agonized shriek and, recognizing the 
voice of Jette, broke into a run. He was too late! The 
monster wolf stood over the lifeless body of his beloved, 
and though in his despairing fury the youth slew the huge 
brute, the retribution of Herthe was complete. 

Henceforth the scene of the tragedy was called the 
‘Wolf’s Spring,’ and the legend is enshrined there to 
this day. 

The Jester of Heidelberg 

Considering the wide fame of Rhenish vintages, it is 
perhaps not surprising that wine should enter as largely 
into the Rhine legends as the ‘ barley bree ’ is supposed 
to enter into Scottish anecdote. In truth there runs 
through these traditions a stream of Rhenish which plays 
almost as important a part in them as the Rhine itself. 
We are told that the Emperor Wenzel sold his crown for 
a quantity of wine; in the tale connected with Thann, in 
Alsace, mortar is mixed with wine instead of water, 
because of the scarcity of the latter commodity during 
the building of a steeple; while in the legends of “ The 
Devil’s Vineyard” and “The Cooper of Auerbach” the 
vintage of Rhineland provides the main interest of the 
plot. The following quaint little story, attaching to the 
castle of Heidelberg, is a ‘ Rhenish ’ tale in every sense 
of the word. 

324 



The Jester of Heidelberg 3 2 4 

Hiram Ellis 






















































































- 









































































































































The Jester of Heidelberg 

In the days when the Schloss Heidelberg was in its most 
flourishing state the lord of the castle numbered among 
his retainers a jester, small of stature and ugly of feature, 
whose quips and drolleries provided endless amusement 
for himself and his guests. Prominent among the jester’s 
characteristics was a weakness for getting tipsy. He was 
possessed of an unquenchable thirst, which he never lost an 
opportunity of satisfying. 

Knowing his peculiarity, some youthful pages in the train 
of the nobleman were minded to have some amusement at 
his expense, and they therefore led him to a cellar in which 
stood a large vat filled with fragrant wine. And there 
for a time they left him. 

The jester was delighted at the propinquity of his favourite 
beverage and decided that he would always remain in the 
cellar, regaling himself with the vintage. His thirst 
increased at the prospect, so he produced a gimlet, bored 
a hole in the vat, and drank and drank till at length he 
could drink no more; then the fumes of the wine over¬ 
came him and he sank down in a drunken stupor. 
Meanwhile the merry little stream flowed from the vat, 
covered the floor of the cellar, and rose ever higher. 

The pages waited at the top of the stairs, listening for 
the- bursts of merriment which were the usual accompani¬ 
ments of the jester’s drinking bouts; but all was silent 
as the grave. At last they grew uneasy and crept below 
in a huddled group. The fool lay quite still, submerged 
beneath the flood, 

He had been drowned in the wine. 

The joke now seemed a sorry one, but the pages consoled 
themselves with the thought that, after all, death had come 
to the jester in a welcome guise. 


3 2 5 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

The Passing Bells 

There is a legend connected with the town of Speyer in 
which poetic justice is meted out to the principal characters, 
although not until after they have died. 

The tale concerns itself with the fate of the unfortunate 
monarch Henry IV. History relates that Henry was 
entirely unfit to wear the ermine, but weak as he was, 
and ignominious as was his reign, it was a bitter blow 
that his own son was foremost among his enemies. At 
first the younger Henry conspired against his father in 
secret; outwardly he was a model of filial affection, so 
that he readily prevailed upon the weak monarch to 
appoint him as his successor. After that, however, he 
openly joined himself to his father’s foes; and when the 
Pope excommunicated the monarch, gradually the Em¬ 
peror’s following went over to the side of his son, who 
then caused himself to be invested with imperial honours. 
The deposed sovereign, deprived of power and supporters, 
was compelled to go into exile; even his personal freedom 
was secured only as the price of his renunciation of the 
crown. Broken and humiliated, feeling intensely the 
disgrace of his position, he determined to undertake a 
pilgrimage to Li6ge, accompanied only by his servant 
Kurt, who alone of all his train had remained faithful to 
him. The pilgrimage was successfully accomplished, but 
ere he could enter upon the return journey the wretched 
Emperor died, in want and misery, utterly neglected by 
his kindred. Even after death the Pope’s ban was 
effective, so that his corpse was not allowed interment for 
several years. During that period the faithful Kurt kept 
guard unceasingly over his master’s coffin and would not 
suffer himself to be drawn therefrom. 

326 


The Passing Bells 

At length, however, Henry V, under pressure from his 
princes and nobles, gave orders that his father’s remains 
be conveyed to Speyer and there interred in the royal 
vault with such honours as befitted the obsequies of a 
monarch. The messengers found old Kurt still holding 
his vigil beside the Emperor’s body, and in recognition of 
his faithfulness he was permitted to follow the funeral 
cortege to Speyer. There were in the town certain 
good and pious folk who were touched by the servant’s 
devotion, and by these he was kindly treated. But all 
their kindness and attention could not repair the havoc 
which his weary vigil and long privations had wrought 
on his health, and a few months later he followed his 
master to the grave. 

Strange to relate, as he expired all the bells of Speyer 
tolled out a funeral peal such as was accorded to an 
emperor, and that without being touched by human hands. 
Meanwhile Henry V also lay dying. All the luxury of 
his palace could not soothe his last moments; though he 
was surrounded by courtiers who assumed sorrow and 
walked softly, and though all his kindred were around 
him, he saw ever before him the image of his dead father, 
pointing at him with a grim, accusing finger. Stricken with 
terror and remorse and tortured by disease, he longed 
for death to end his torments, and at last it came. 

Again the passing bell was tolled by invisible hands, but 
not this time the peal which announced the passing of an 
emperor. The citizens heard the awful sound which told 
that a criminal had paid the law’s last penalty, and asked 
one another what poor wretch had been executed. Awe 
and astonishment seized upon everyone when it was known 
that the Emperor had died, for they knew then that it was 
no earthly hand that had rung his death-knell. 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

Legends of IVindeck 

Concerning the neighbourhood of Windeck, some eight 
miles from Baden, several interesting tales are current. 
The castle itself has long enjoyed the reputation of being 
haunted by the ghost of a beautiful girl, though when or 
wherefore this originated tradition does not relate. We 
are told that a young huntsman, whom the chase had 
driven thitherward, saw the spectre and was so stricken 
with her charms that day after day he visited the castle, 
hoping to see her once more. But being disappointed, he 
at length took up his solitary abode in the deserted 
fortress, renouncing his former pursuits and ceasing from 
all communication with his friends. 

One day he was found dead in his bed with so peaceful an 
expression of countenance that those who saw him could 
not doubt that his end had been a pleasant one. On his 
finger was a ring of quaint design which he had not been 
known to wear, and it was whispered among the peasantry 
that the ghost-maid of Windeck had claimed her lover. 

The Hennegraben 

Hard by the Schloss Windeck lay a deep trench, known 
as the Hennegraben, of which traces may still be found. 
It is rendered immortal by reason of the following 
romantic legend, which tells of its magical origin. 

A certain young knight, lord of the castle of Windeck, 
for some unknown reason had seized and imprisoned the 
worthy Dean of Strassburg. It is true that the Churchman 
was treated with every consideration, more like a guest 
than a captive, but he nevertheless resented strongly the 
loss of his liberty, as did also the good folk of Strassburg 
when they learned what had happened. 

328 


The Hennegraben 

Two of the Dean’s young kinsfolk resolved to journey to 
Windeck and beg that their uncle might be set free. On 
their way thither they had to pass through a forest, where 
they met an old woman. 

“Whither away, my pretty boys?” said she. “Will you 
not tell an old gossip your destination?” 

The elder of the two replied courteously that they were on 
their way to Windeck, where their uncle was imprisoned. 
“Perchance,” he added timidly, “the lord may accept us 
as hostages till the ransom be paid.” 

“ Perchance,” mimicked the old woman, “ aye, perchance! 
Think you the knight of Windeck will take such lads as 
you are for hostages ? ” 

And in truth they were not an imposing couple—the elder 
a slim, fragile youth, whose eyes were already tearful at 
the prospect of confronting his uncle’s captor; while the 
younger was a mere boy, sanguine and adventuresome as 
children often are. 

“ I will challenge this knight,” said the boy seriously. 
“ I will draw sword for my uncle, for I also am a 
knight.” 

“ Hush, Cuno,” said his brother, smiling in spite of him¬ 
self at the boy’s ardour. “ We must not talk of fighting. 
We must entreat the knight to let our uncle go free.” 
“What would you have, Imma? Entreat? Nay, that 
we shall not.” 

He stopped awkwardly, and his sister’s rising colour 
showed plainly her embarrassment at having her sex thus 
suddenly revealed. 

The old woman looked at her kindly. 

“ I knew from the first that thou wert a maid disguised,” 
she said. “ Go, and God speed you ! Tell the knight of 
Windeck that the people of Strassburg mean to attack 

329 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

his castle on the morrow, and that his only means of 
resisting them is to dig a deep trench across the one 
possible approach. But stay—there is no time for that; 
I will give you something wherewith to dig the trench.” 
She whistled shrilly and in answer to her call a grey hen 
fluttered toward her ; this she gave to the young people. 
“When the moon rises,” she said, “take the hen and 
place it where you wish the trench to be.” 

Then with a few words to the hen in a strange tongue, 
she bade the brother and sister farewell and went on 
her way. 

The two continued their journey and upon arriving at 
Windeck they were agreeably surprised in the lord of the 
castle, for he was young and handsome and very courteous, 
not at all the ogre they had imagined. In faltering tones 
Imma told him their mission, conveyed to him the old 
witch’s warning, and presented the grey hen. 

When he heard that they proposed to gain their uncle’s 
freedom by themselves taking his place, the knight 
regarded his visitors with mingled feelings of pity and 
astonishment. The gentle, appealing glance of the elder, 
no less than the naive candour of the younger, appealed 
to his sympathies. In a very short time Cuno, who had 
quite forgotten to challenge his host, was on the best of 
terms with him. 

Meanwhile the Dean, very impatient and incensed, paced 
his small chamber like a caged lion, or bemoaned his lost 
liberty and meditated on the chances of escape. He was 
roused from a reverie by the sound of familiar voices 
outside his cell, and a moment later the door was flung 
open and Cuno entered unceremoniously. 

“You are free, uncle, you are free! Imma and I have 
come to save you! ” 

330 



A grey hen fluttered toward her 
Hiram Ellis 


33 ° 






The Klingelkapelle 

Once more Imma flushed crimson at the revelation of 
her sex. The astonished knight glanced with a new 
interest at her beautiful face, with its rosy colour and 
downcast eyes. Turning to the Dean, he greeted him 
cordially. 

“You are free,” he said. “Your nephews have promised 
to remain with me as hostages till you have provided a 
ransom.” Then, turning humorously to Imma, he added: 
“Wilt thou be a soldier in my employ, youth? Or 
wouldst have a place in my household ? ” 

Imma vouchsafed no other reply than a deepening of her 
colour. She must, however, have found words to utter 
when, later, the gallant knight begged her seriously to 
remain at Windeck as his wife—for ere nightfall the old 
Dean, grumbling and somewhat reluctant, was called 
upon to consent to his niece’s betrothal. This he did 
at length, when Imma had joined her entreaties to those 
of her lover. 

That night the grey hen was placed as the witch had 
advised, and it was as she had said. With the dawn the 
Strassburgers arrived before the castle, to find a newly 
made trench filled with the castle troopers. When they 
learned that the Dean was free they called for a truce, 
and it was not blood, but wine, which flowed that day, 
for all were invited to share the wedding-feast of Imma 
and the knight of Windeck. 

The Klingelkapelle 

On the road between Gernsbach and Eberstein there once 
stood an ancient, moss-grown cell. It had been occupied 
by a beautiful pagan priestess, a devotee of Herthe, but 
when the preaching of the white monks had begun to 
spread Christianity among the people she left the neigh- 

331 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

bourhood. In passing by that way a Christian monk 
noticed the deserted retreat and took possession of it, 
issuing at intervals to preach to the inhabitants of the 
surrounding country. 

One stormy night as he sat within his cell he fancied he 
heard a pleading voice mingling with the roar of wind 
and waters. Going to the door, he beheld a young girl 
who seemed to be half dead with cold and fatigue. The 
good monk, who was never indifferent to human suffering, 
drew her quickly inside, bade her seat herself by the fire, 
and set food and wine before her. When she had recovered 
a little from the effects of the storm the hermit questioned 
her with regard to her presence in such a lonely spot and 
at such an unseasonable hour. The maid replied that she 
had once dwelt in just such a pleasant and peaceful cell 
as that in which she now reposed, but that cruel perse¬ 
cution had driven her from her retreat. 

“Then you, too, are a hermit?” said the young monk 
inquiringly, looking down at his fair guest. The wine had 
brought some colour to her pale cheeks and he could see 
that she was beautiful, with a beauty beyond that of any 
maiden he had ever seen. 

“ Yes,” she replied, “lama priestess of Herthe. This 
cell in which I beg for shelter was once my own. It was 
those of your religion who drove me from it.” 

“You are not a Christian?” asked the monk, startled 
in spite of himself by the passionate tones in which she 
spoke. 

The maiden laughed. 

“Am I not as beautiful as your Christian maids?” said 
she. “ Am I not human even as they are?” She moved 
about the cell as she spoke, and picked up a piece of 
embroidery. “See, this is my handiwork; is it less 
332 


The Water-Nymph of Staufenberg 

beautiful because it is not the work of a Christian? Why 
should we suffer persecution at your hands ? ” 

The young monk endeavoured to show that she was 
unjust in her estimate of his religion. Gravely he told 
her the story of Christianity, but his thoughts were of her 
weird beauty and he spake less earnestly than was usual. 
And the maid, with an appearance of child-like innocence, 
waited until he had finished his recital. She saw that 
she had him completely in her power and pressed her 
advantage to the uttermost. She drew closer to him, 
raised his hand, and pressed it to her lips. The monk 
surrendered himself to her caresses, and when at length 
she begged him to break the symbol of his religion he 
was too much fascinated to refuse. He raised the cross 
and would have dashed it to the ground, but at that very 
moment he heard high above the storm the sound of a 
bell. Contrite and ;ashamed, he fell on his knees and 
prayed for pardon. When he looked up again the girl had 
disappeared. 

The hermit found the warning bell suspended on a bough 
outside his cell; how it came there he never knew, but 
he was sure that it had been sent to rescue him from the 
wiles of Satan and he treasured it as a sacred relic. Many 
came from far and near to see the wonder, and on the site 
of the cell the monk founded a chapel which became 
known as the Klingelkapelle , or ‘Tinkling-chapel.’ 

The IVater-Nymph of Staufenberg 
A charming story is linked with the castle of Staufenberg. 
One day while its owner was out hunting he lost his way 
in the forest. The day was hot, and the hunter was well- 
nigh overcome with thirst and fatigue when he entered 
a pleasant glade in which a spring of limpid water bubbled 

333 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

and sparkled. Having quenched his thirst, he seated him¬ 
self on a mossy bank to rest before proceeding homeward. 
Suddenly he saw at a little distance a damsel of unique 
and marvellous beauty, braiding her wet hair by the side 
of the spring. He watched her for a time in silence, then, 
conscious that the damsel had observed his scrutiny, he 
hastened to her side and courteously begged her permission 
to remain a little longer in the glade. 

“You are the lord of these domains,” she replied 
graciously. “ It is I who am grateful to you for suffering 
me to dwell here.” 

The young knight protested eagerly that she honoured 
the forest with her presence, and, indeed, he had already 
begun to wish that she might dwell not only in the forest 
but in the schloss itself as his wife and its mistress—for 
he had fallen in love with her at first sight. Indeed, so 
ardent was his passion that he could not conceal his in¬ 
fatuation ; he told her of his love and begged that she 
would give him a little hope. The maid’s hesitation only 
drove him to urge his suit with increasing ardour. 

“I will say neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no,’” she replied, smiling. 
“ Meet me to-morrow at this hour and you shall have your 
answer.” 

The knight parted reluctantly from the fair lady and 
promised to return on the following day. When the 
appointed time arrived he was already at the tryst, eagerly 
awaiting the approach of his beloved. When at length she 
came he renewed his pleadings with even greater ardour, 
and to his unbounded delight the answer was favourable. 
“ I am a water-nymph,” said the lady, “ the spirit of the 
stream from which you drank yesterday. You saw me 
then for the first time, but I have often seen you in the 
forest—and I have long loved you.” 

334 


The Water-Nymph of Staufenberg 

The knight was more than ever enchanted by this naive 
confession, and begged that their wedding should not be 
long delayed. 

“ There is one condition,” said the nymph. “ If you 
marry me you must remain for ever faithful. Otherwise 
you must suffer death, and I eternal unhappiness.” 

The knight laughed at the bare idea of his proving un¬ 
faithful to his beloved, and his vows were sincere. 

Shortly afterward they were married, and none supposed 
the beautiful being to be aught but a very attractive 
woman; in time there was born to them a little son. The 
knight adored both wife and child, and for some years lived 
a life of ideal domestic happiness. But there came a time 
when another interest entered into his life. Rumours of 
fighting reached him from France; he saw the knights of 
neighbouring fortresses leading their troops to the war, 
and a martial spirit stirred within him. His wife was 
not slow to observe that his world was no longer bounded 
by the castle-walls of Staufenberg, and she wisely resolved 
not to stand in the way of her lord’s ambitions, but rather, 
if possible, to help them to an honourable realization. So 
with much labour and skill she made him a strangely 
wrought belt, which she gave him at once as a love-token 
and a charm to secure success in battle. She concealed her 
grief at his departure and bade him farewell bravely. 

At the head of his troop the knight rode boldly into 
France and offered his services to a distinguished French 
leader, to whom he soon became indispensable—so much 
so, in fact, that the nobleman cast about for a means of 
retaining permanently in his train a knight of such skill 
and courage. But he could think of nothing with which to 
tempt the young man, who was already possessed of gold 
and lands, till the artless glances of his youngest daughter 

335 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

gave him his cue. For he saw that she had lately begun 
to look with some favour on the simple knight of Staufen- 
berg, and it occurred to him that the hand of a lady of 
rank and beauty would be a very desirable bait. 

Nor was he mistaken, for the gaieties of the Frankish 
court had dazzled the knight, and the offer of the lady’s 
hand completely turned his head, not that he felt a great 
affection for her, but because of the honour done to him. 
So he accepted the offer and drowned, as best he could, 
the remembrance of his wife and child at Staufenberg. 
Nevertheless he sometimes felt that he was not acting 
honourably, and at length the struggle between his love for 
his wife and his pride and ambition became so severe that 
he determined to consult a priest. 

The good man crossed himself when he heard the story. 
“She whom you married is an evil spirit,” said he. 
“ Beneficent spirits do not wed human beings. It is your 
duty to renounce her at once and do penance for your sin.” 
Though he hardly found it possible to believe the priest’s 
assertion, the knight strove to persuade himself that it was 
true, and that he was really acting virtuously in renouncing 
the water-nymph and marrying again. So he performed 
the penances prescribed by the priest, and allowed the 
wedding preparations to proceed. 

When the day of his wedding arrived, however, he was 
strangely perturbed and pale. The rejoicings of the 
people, the gay processions, even the beautiful bride, 
seemed to have no interest for him. When the hand of 
the lady was placed in his he could not repress an 
exclamation; it was cold to the touch like the hand of a 
corpse. 

On returning the wedding procession was obliged to cross 
a bridge, and as they approached it a great storm arose 
336 


Trifels Richard Cceur-de-Lion 

so that the waters of the stream washed over the feet of 
the bridegroom’s horse, making it prance and rear. The 
knight was stricken with deadly terror, for he knew that 
the doom of which the water-nymph had spoken was about 
to overtake him. Without a word he plunged into the 
torrent and was nevermore seen. 

At the very hour of this tragedy a great storm raged round 
the castle of Staufenberg, and when it abated the mother 
and child had disappeared for ever. Yet even now on a 
stormy night she can still be heard among the’ tree-tops 
weeping passionately, and the sound is accompanied by 
the whimpering of a child. 

Trifels and Richard Coeur-de-Lion 
As a troop of horsemen rode through Annweiler toward 
the castle of Trifels, in which Richard Coeur-de-Lion was 
imprisoned by the Archduke of Austria, his deadly enemy, 
the plaintive notes of a familiar lay fell on their ears. The 
singer was a young shepherd, and one of the knights, a 
troubadour, asked him to repeat his ditty. The youth 
complied, and the knight accompanied him as he sang, 
their voices blending tunefully together. 

Giving him generous largess, the knight asked the minstrel 
who had taught him that song. The shepherd replied 
that he had heard it sung in the castle of Trifels. At 
this intelligence the stranger appeared highly gratified, 
and, turning to his companions,ejaculated : “The King is 
found! ” 

It was evident to the shepherd that the new-comers were 
friends of Richard, and he warned them earnestly that 
danger lay before them. Only by guile could they hope to 
succour their Kung.. The warning was heeded, and the tune¬ 
ful knight rode forward alone, disguised in a minstrel’s 
y 337 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

tunic, in which he was welcomed at the castle. His 
courtly bearing soon won him the favour of the castellan’s 
pretty niece, who persuaded her uncle to listen to his songs. 
During one of their stolen interviews the girl betrayed the 
place where the King of England was imprisoned, and 
that night, from beneath a window, the minstrel heard 
his King’s well-remembered voice breathing a prayer for 
freedom. His hopes being thus confirmed, he took his 
harp and played the melody which he himself had com¬ 
posed for Richard. The King immediately joined in the 
familiar lay. When its strains had ended, “ Blondel! ” 
cried the captive excitedly. The minstrel cautiously 
replied by singing another song, telling how he was 
pledged to liberate his master. 

But suspicion was aroused, and Blondel was requested 
to depart on the following day. Deeming it prudent to 
make no demur, he mounted his horse, after having 
arranged with the castellan’s niece to return secretly at 
nightfall. He rode no further than an inn near Annweiler, 
which commanded a view of the castle. There his host 
informed him that the Emperor was presently to be 
crowned at Frankfort, and that on the evening of that 
day the garrison would celebrate the event by drinking 
his health. 

The minstrel said that he would certainly join the 
company, ordered wine for the occasion, and promised 
to pay the reckoning. He then withdrew to seek his 
comrades. At dusk he returned stealthily to the castle, 
and at his signal the maid appeared at a little postern 
and admitted him. 

On the day of the Emperor’s coronation stealthy forms 
crept among the trees near by the castle, and concealed 
themselves in the thick foliage of the underbrush. The 
338 


Trifels Richard Cceur-de-Lion 

garrison, gaily dressed, quitted the keep, the drawbridge 
was lowered, and the men were soon quaffing the choice 
wine which the stranger had ordered. 

Meanwhile Blondel had appeared before the postern and 
had given his accustomed signal; for a time there was 
no response, and the minstrel was becoming impatient, 
when the gate was suddenly opened and the maiden 
appeared. 

The minstrel now told the girl his reason for coming 
hither: how he hoped to liberate the captive monarch. 
As a reward for her connivance he promised to take her 
with him to England. Then he beckoned to his friends, 
there was a sudden rush, and armed forms thronged the 
postern. The frightened maid, dreading lest violence 
should overtake her uncle, shrieked loudly; but her cries 
were unheeded, and the English knights pressed into the 
courtyard. 

The assailants met with little resistance, seized the keys, 
threw open the prison door, and liberated their King. 
The castellan protested loudly, and threatened Richard 
with mighty words, but all to no purpose. When the 
garrison returned they were powerless to render aid, 
for the castellan was threatened with death should his 
followers attack the castle. In the end a truce was made, 
and the English were allowed to retire unmolested with 
their King. Although urged by him, the maid refused 
to accompany Blondel, so, giving her a gold ring as a 
memento, he parted from her. 

Returning again many years afterward, the minstrel once 
more heard the same song which the King had sung to 
his harp in the castle of Trifels. Entering the inn, he 
recognized in the landlord the one-time shepherd-boy. 
From him he learnt that the castellan had perished by 

339 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

an unknown hand, and that his pretty niece, having, as 
she thought, plumbed the depths of masculine deceit, had 
entered the nunnery of Eberstein at Baden. 

Thann in Alsace 

Thann is known to legend by two things : a steeple and a 
field. The steeple was built in a season of great drought. 
Water had failed everywhere; there was only the thinnest 
trickle from the springs and fountains with which the 
people might allay their thirst. Yet, strangely, the vine¬ 
yards had yielded a wonderful harvest of luscious grapes, 
and the wine was so abundant that the supply of casks 
and vessels was insufficient for the demand. Therefore 
did it happen that the mortar used for building the steeple 
was mixed with wine, wherefore the lime was changed to 
must. And it is said that even to this day, when the 
vines are in blossom, a delicate fragrance steals from the 
old steeple and on the stones a purple dew is seen, while 
some declare that there is a deeper tone in the harmony 
of the bells. 

The Lying-field 

The field is a terrible place, barren and desolate, for it is 
avoided as a spot accursed. No living thing moves upon 
it; the earth is streaked with patches of dark moss and 
drifts of ghastly skulls, like a scattered harvest of death. 
Once, says the legend, a wayfarer, surprised by the swift- 
fallen night, lost himself on the plain. As he stumbled 
in the darkness he heard the clocks of the town near by 
strike the hour of midnight. At this the stillness about 
the wanderer was broken. Under his feet the earth seemed 
to tremble, there was a rattling of weapons, and there 
sounded the tramp of armed men and the tumult of battle. 
340 


Strassburg 

Suddenly the shape of a man in armour appeared before 
him, terrific and menacing. 

“ What do you seek here, in a field that has been accursed 
through many centuries ? ” he asked. “ Do you not know 
that this is a place of terror and death ? Are you a 
stranger that you stand on the place where a king, Louis 
the Pious, betrayed by his own sons, was handed over to 
his enemies, his crown torn from his head by his own 
troops ? And he who would have died gladly in battle 
suffered the shame and dishonour that were worse than 
death. He lifted up his hands to heaven and cried with 
bitterness : ‘ There is no such thing on earth as faith and 
loyalty. Accursed be sons and warriors, accursed be this 
field whereon such deeds have been done, accursed be 
they for ever 1 ’ ” 

The spectre paused and his words echoed across the 
field like the cry of a lost soul. Again he spoke to the 
trembling wanderer: “ And that curse has endured through 
the centuries. Under this plain in mile-wide graves we 
faithless warriors lie, our bones knowing no repose; and 
never will that curse of our betrayed king be lifted from 
us or this place!” 

The spectral warrior sank into the gloomy earth, the 
tumult of fighting died away. The wayfarer, seized with 
terror, stumbled blindly on in the night. 

Strassburg 

Strassburg, the capital of Alsace-Lorraine, is only two miles 
west of the Rhine. The city is of considerable antiquity, 
and boasts a cathedral of great beauty, in which the work 
of four centuries is displayed to wonderful advantage. 
By the light of the stained-glass windows the famous 
astronomical clock in the south transept can be descried, 

34i 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

still containing some fragments of the horologe con¬ 
structed by the mathematician Conrad Dasypodius in 
1574. This, however, does not tally with the well-known 
legend of the clock, which now follows. 

The Clockmaker of Strassburg 
There dwelt in the town of Strassburg an old clockmaker. 
So wrapped up was he in his art that he seemed to live 
in a world of his own, quite indifferent to the customs 
and practices of ordinary life; he forgot his meals, forgot 
his sleep, cared nothing for his clothes, and would have 
been in evil case indeed had not his daughter Guta 
tended him with filial affection. In his absent-minded 
fashion he was really very fond of Guta, fonder even 
than he was of his clocks, and that is saying not a 
little. 

The neighbours, busy, energetic folk who performed their 
daily tasks and drank wine with their friends, scoffed at 
the dreamy, unpractical old fellow and derided his occu¬ 
pation as the idle pastime of a mind not too well balanced. 
But the clockmaker, finding in his workroom all that he 
needed of excitement, of joy and sorrow, of elation and 
despondency, did not miss the pleasures of social life, nor 
did he heed the idle gossip of which he was the subject. 

It need hardly be said that such a man had but few 
acquaintances ; yet a few he had, and among them one 
who is worthy of especial note—a wealthy citizen who 
aspired to a position of civic honour in Strassburg. In 
appearance he was lean, old, and ugly, with hatchet¬ 
shaped face and cunning, malevolent eyes; and when he 
pressed his hateful attentions on the fair Guta she turned 
from him in disgust. 

One day this creature called on the clockmaker, announced 

34 2 


STRASSBURG CATHEDRAL, FROM THE OLD PIG MARKET 

LOUIS WEIRTER, R.B.A. 

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The Clockmaker of Strassburg 

that he had been made a magistrate, and demanded the 
hand of Guta, hinting that it would go ill with the master 
should he refuse. 

The clockmaker was taken completely by surprise, but he 
offered his congratulations and called the girl to speak 
for herself as to her hand. When Guta heard the pro¬ 
posal she cast indignant glances at the ancient magistrate, 
whereupon he, without giving her an opportunity to speak, 
said quickly: 

“Do not answer me now, sweet maid; do not decide 
hastily, I beg of you, for such a course might bring last¬ 
ing trouble on you and your father. I will return 
to-morrow for your answer.” 

When he was gone Guta flung herself into her father’s 
arms and declared that she could never marry the aged 
swain. 

“ My dear,” said the clockmaker soothingly, “ you shall 
do as you please. Heed not his threats, for when I have 
finished my great work we shall be as rich and powerful 
as he.” 

On the following day the magistrate called again, looking 
very important and self-satisfied, and never doubting but 
that the answer would be favourable. But when Guta 
told him plainly that she would not marry him his rage 
was unbounded, and he left the house vowing vengeance 
on father and daughter. 

Scarcely was he gone ere a handsome youth entered the 
room and looked with some surprise at the disturbed 
appearance of Guta and her father. When he heard the 
story he was most indignant; later, when the clockmaker 
had left the young people alone, Guta confessed that the 
attentions of the magistrate were loathsome to her, and 
burst into tears. 


343 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

The young man had long loved the maiden in secret, and 
he could conceal his passion no longer. He begged that 
she would become his bride, and Guta willingly con¬ 
sented, but suggested that they should not mention the 
matter to her father till the latter had completed his great 
clock, which he fondly believed was soon to bring him 
fame and fortune. She also proposed that her lover 
should offer to become her father’s partner—for he, too, 
was a clockmaker—so that in the event of the master’s 
great work proving a failure his business should still be 
secure. The young man at once acted upon the sug¬ 
gestion, and the father gratefully received the proffered 
assistance. 

At last the day came when the clockmaker joyfully an¬ 
nounced that his masterpiece was finished, and he called 
upon Guta and his young partner to witness his handi¬ 
work. They beheld a wonderful clock, of exquisite work¬ 
manship, and so constructed that the striking of the hour 
automatically set in motion several small figures. The 
young people were not slow to express their admiration 
and their confidence that fame was assured. 

When the clock was publicly exhibited the scepticism of 
the citizens was changed to respect; praise and flattery 
flowed from the lips that had formerly reviled its inventor. 
Nevertheless the civic authorities, urged thereto by Guta’s 
discarded lover, refused to countenance any attempt to 
procure the wonderful clock for the town. But soon its 
fame spread abroad to other cities. Members of the 
clockmakers’ guild of Basel travelled to see it, and raised 
their hands in surprise and admiration. Finally the 
municipal authorities of Basel made arrangements to 
purchase it. 

But at this point the citizens of Strassburg stepped in and 
344 


The Clockmaker of Strassburg 

insisted on preserving the clock in their own city, and it 
was therefore purchased for a round sum and erected in 
a chapel of the Strassburg Cathedral. The corporation of 
Basel, having set their hearts on the wonderful time¬ 
piece, commissioned the clockmaker to make another like 
it, and offered substantial remuneration. The old man 
gladly agreed, but his arch-enemy, hearing of the arrange¬ 
ment and scenting a fine opportunity for revenge, contrived 
to raise a large outcry against the proposal. “Where 
was the advantage,” asked the magistrates, “ in possessing 
a wonderful clock ifi every city in Germany was to have 
one?” So to preserve the uniqueness of their treasure 
they haled the old clockmaker before a tribunal and 
ordered him to cease practising his art. This he indig¬ 
nantly refused to do, and the council, still instigated by 
his enemy, finally decided that his eyes be put out, so that 
his skill in clockmaking should come to a decided end. 
Not a few objections were raised to so cruel a decision, 
but these were at length overruled. The victim heard 
the dreadful sentence without a tremor, and when asked 
if he had any boon to crave ere it were carried out, he 
answered quietly that he would like to make a few final 
improvements in his clock, and wished to suffer his 
punishment in its presence. 

Accordingly when the day came the old man was con¬ 
ducted to the place where his masterpiece stood. There, 
under pretence of making the promised improvements, he 
damaged the works, after which he submitted himself to 
his torturers. Hardly had they carried out their cruel 
task when, to the consternation of the onlookers, the 
clock began to emit discordant sounds and to whirr loudly. 
When it had continued thus for a while the gong struck 
thirteen and the mechanism came to a standstill. 


345 


Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 

“ Behold my handiwork ! ” cried the blind clockmaker. 
“ Behold my revenge! ” 

His assistant approached and led him gently away. 
Henceforward he lived happily with Guta and her hus¬ 
band, whose affectionate care compensated in part for the 
loss of his eyesight and his enforced inability to practise 
his beloved art. 

When the story became known the base magistrate was 
deprived of his wealth and his office and forced to quit 
the town. 

And as for the clock, it remained in its disordered state 
till 1843, when it was once more restored to its original 
condition. 

The Trumpeter of Sackingen 

A beautiful and romantic tale which has inspired more 
than one work of art is the legend of the Trumpeter of 
Sackingen; it shares with “The Lorelei ” and a few other 
legends the distinction of being the most widely popular 
in Rhenish folklore. 

One evening in early spring, so the legend runs, a gallant 
young soldier emerged from the Black Forest opposite 
Sackingen and reined in his steed on the banks of the 
Rhine. Night was at hand, and the snow lay thickly on 
the ground. For a few moments the wayfarer pondered 
whither he should turn for food and shelter, for his steed 
and the trumpet he carried under his cavalry cloak were 
all he possessed in the world; then with a reckless 
gesture he seized the trumpet and sounded some lively 
notes which echoed merrily over the snow. 

The parish priest, toiling painfully up the hill, heard the 
martial sound, and soon encountered the soldier, who 
saluted him gravely. The priest paused to return the 
346 


The Trumpeter of Sackingen 
greeting, and entering into conversation with the horse¬ 
man, he learned that he was a soldier of fortune, where¬ 
upon he invited him with simple cordiality to become 
his guest. The proffer of hospitality was gratefully 
accepted, and the kindly old man led the stranger to 
his home. 

The old priest, though not a little curious with regard to 
his guest’s previous history, forbore out of courtesy to 
question him, but the warmth and cheer soon loosened 
the trumpeter’s tongue, and he volunteered to tell the 
old man his story. Shorn of detail, it ran as follows: 
The soldier’s youth had been passed at the University of 
Heidelberg, where he had lived a gay and careless life, 
paying so little attention to his studies that at the end 
of his course his only asset was a knowledge of music, 
picked up from a drunken trumpeter in exchange for the 
wherewithal to satisfy his thirst. The legal profession, 
which his guardian had designed for him, was clearly 
impossible with such meagre acquirements, so he had 
joined a cavalry regiment and fought in the Thirty Years’ 
War. At the end of the war his horse and his trumpet 
were his sole possessions, and from that time he had 
wandered through the world, gaining a scanty livelihood 
with the aid of his music. Such was his history. 

That night Werner—for so the young man was called— 
slept soundly in the house of the old priest, and next 
morning he rose early to attend the festival of St. Fridolin, 
in celebration of which a procession was organized every 
year at Sackingen. There, at the head of a band of girls, 
he beheld a maid who outshone them all in beauty and 
grace, and to her he immediately lost his heart. From 
that moment the gaieties of the festival had no attraction 
for him, and he wandered disconsolately among the merry- 

347 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

makers, thinking only of the lovely face that had caught 
his fancy. 

Toward nightfall he embarked in a little boat and floated 
idly down the Rhine. Suddenly, to his amazement, there 
arose from the water the handsome, youthful figure of the 
Rhine-god, who had recognized in his pale cheek and 
haggard eye the infallible signs of a lover. Indicating a 
castle at the edge of the river, the apparition informed 
Werner that his lady-love dwelt therein, and he bade him 
take heart and seek some mode of communicating with 
her. At this Werner plucked up courage to row ashore 
to his lady’s abode. There in the garden, beneath a 
lighted window, he played an exquisite serenade, every 
perfect note of which told of his love and grief and the 
wild hopes he would never dare to express in words. 

Now, the lord of the castle was at that very moment tell¬ 
ing to his beautiful daughter the story of his own long-past 
wooing; he paused in his tale and bade his daughter 
listen to the melting strains. When the notes had died 
away an attendant was dispatched to learn who the 
musician might be, but ere he reached the garden Werner 
had re-embarked and was lost to sight on the river. 
However, on the following day the nobleman pursued his 
inquiries in the village and the musician was discovered 
in an inn. 

In obedience to a summons the trumpeter hastened to the 
castle, where the old lord greeted him very kindly, giving 
him a place with his musicians, and appointing him music- 
master to the fair Margaretha. Henceforward his path 
lay in pleasant places, for the young people were thrown 
a great deal into each other’s society, and in time it 
became evident that the lady returned the young soldier’s 
tender passion. Yet Werner did not dare to declare his 
348 


The Trumpeter of Sackingen 

love, for Margaretha was a maiden of high degree, and 
he but a poor musician who not so very long ago had 
been a homeless wanderer. 

One day Werner heard strange, discordant sounds issuing 
from the music-room, and thinking that some mischievous 
page was taking liberties with his trumpet, he quietly 
made his way to the spot, to find that the inharmonious 
sounds resulted from the vain attempt of his fair pupil to 
play the instrument. When the girl observed that her 
endeavours had been overheard, she joined her merriment 
with that of her teacher, and Werner then and there 
taught her a bugle-call. 

A few weeks later the nobleman, hearing of a rising of the 
peasants, hastened to Sackingen to restore order, leaving 
his daughter and Werner to guard the castle. That 
night an attempt was made upon the stronghold. Werner 
courageously kept the foe at bay, but was wounded in the 
mUte, and Margaretha, seeing her lover fall and being 
unable to reach him, took the trumpet and sounded the 
bugle-call he had taught her, hoping that her father would 
hear it and hasten his return. And, sure enough, that was 
what happened; the nobleman returned with all speed to 
the assistance of the little garrison, and the remnant of 
the assailants were routed. Werner, who was happily not 
wounded seriously, now received every attention. 

Her lover’s peril had taught Margaretha beyond a doubt 
where her affections lay, and she showed such unfeigned 
delight at his recovery that he forgot the difference in 
their rank and told her of his love. There on the terrace 
they plighted their troth, and vowed to remain true to 
each other, whatever might befall. Werner now ventured 
to seek the nobleman that he might acquaint him of the 
circumstances and beg for his daughter’s hand, but ere he 

349 


Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 

could prefer his request the old man proceeded to tell 
him that he had but just received a letter from an old 
friend desiring that his son should marry Margaretha. 
As the young man was of noble birth, he added, and 
eligible in every respect he was disposed to agree to the 
arrangement, and he desired Werner to write to him and 
invite him to Sackingen. The unfortunate soldier now 
made his belated announcement; but the old man shook 
his head and declared that only a nobleman should wed 
with his daughter. It is true he was greatly attached to 
the young musician, but his ideas were those of his times, 
and so Werner was obliged to quit his service and fare 
once more into the wide world. 

Years passed by, and Margaretha, who had resolutely dis¬ 
couraged the advances of her high-born lover, grew so 
pale and woebegone that her father in despair sent her 
to Italy. When in Rome she went one Sunday with her 
maid to St. Peter’s Church, and there, leading the Papal 
choir, was her lover! Margaretha promptly fainted, and 
Werner, who had recognized his beloved, was only able 
with difficulty to perform the remainder of his choral 
duties. Meanwhile the Pope had observed that the young 
man was deeply affected, and believing this to be caused 
by the lady’s indisposition, he desired that the couple 
should be brought before him at the conclusion of the 
service. With kindly questioning he elicited the whole 
story, and was so touched by the romance that he im¬ 
mediately created Werner Marquis of Santo Campo and 
arranged that the marriage of the young people should 
take place at once. Immediately after the ceremony, 
having received the Papal blessing, they returned to 
Sackingen, where the father of the bride greeted them 
cordially, for Margaretha was restored to health and 
350 


The Charcoal-Burner 

happiness, and his own condition was satisfied, for had she 
not brought home a noble husband ? 

The Charcoal-Burner 

In the woods of Zahringen there dwelt a young charcoal- 
burner. His parents before him had followed the same 
humble calling, and one might have supposed that the 
youth would be well satisfied to emulate their simple 
industry and contentment. But in truth it was not so. 
On one occasion, while on an errand to the town, he had 
witnessed a tournament, and the brilliant spectacle of 
beauty and chivalry had lingered in his memory and fired 
his boyish enthusiasm, so that thenceforth he was possessed 
by ‘divine discontent.’ The romance of the ancient 
forests wherein he dwelt fostered his strange longings, 
and in fancy he already saw himself a knight, fighting in 
the wars, jousting in the lists, receiving, perchance, the 
prize of the tourney from the fair hands of its queen. And, 
indeed, in all save birth and station he was well fitted for 
the profession of arms—handsome, brave, spirited, and 
withal gentle and courteous. ] 

Time passed, and his ambitions seemed as far as ever from 
realization. Yet the ambitious mind lacks not fuel for 
its fires; the youth’s imagination peopled the woody 
solitudes with braver company than courts could boast— 
vivid, unreal dream-people, whose shadowy presence 
increased his longing for the actuality. The very winds 
whispered mysteriously of coming triumphs, and as he 
listened his unrest grew greater. At length there came a 
time when dreams no longer satisfied him, and he pon¬ 
dered how he might attain his desires. 

“ I will go out into the world,” he said to himself,“ and take 

service under some great knight. Then, peradventure-” 

35i 


Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 

At this point his musings were interrupted by the approach 
of an old man, clad in the garb of a hermit. 

“My son,” he said, “what aileth thee? Nay”—as the 
youth looked up in astonishment—“nay, answer me not, 
for I know what thou wouldst have. Yet must thou not 
forsake thy lowly occupation; that which thou dost seek 
will only come to thee whilst thou art engaged thereon. 
Follow me, and I will show thee the spot where thy 
destiny will meet thee.” 

The young man, not yet recovered from his surprise, 
followed his aged guide to a distant part of the forest. 
Then the hermit bade him farewell and left him to ponder 
on the cryptic saying: “ Here thy destiny will meet 
thee.” 

“Time will show the old man’s meaning, I suppose,” he 
said to himself; “ in any case, I may as well burn charcoal 
here as elsewhere.” 

He set to work, hewed down some great trees, and built 
a kiln, which, before lighting, he covered with stony 
earth. What was his amazement when, on removing the 
cover of the kiln in due course, he discovered within 
some pieces of pure gold ! A moment’s reflection con¬ 
vinced him that the precious metal must have been melted 
out of the stones, so he again built a kiln, and experienced 
the same gratifying result. Delighted with his good for¬ 
tune, he concealed his treasure in an appropriate hiding- 
place and proceeded to repeat the process till he had 
obtained and hidden a large fortune, of whose existence 
none but himself was aware. 

One night, as he lay awake listening to the wind in the 
trees—for his great wealth had this drawback, that it 
robbed him of his sleep—he fancied he heard a knock 
at the door. At first he thought he must have been mis- 
35 2 


The Charcoal-Burner 

taken, but as he hesitated whether to rise or not the knock 
was repeated. Boldly he undid the door—a feat requiring 
no small courage in that remote part of the forest, where 
robbers and freebooters abounded—and there, without, 
stood a poor wayfarer, who humbly begged admittance. 
He was being pursued, he declared; would the charcoal- 
burner shelter him for a few days? Touched by the 
suppliant’s plight, and moved by feelings worthy of his 
chivalrous ideals, the youth readily extended the hos¬ 
pitality of his poor home, and for some time the stranger 
sojourned there in peace. He did not offer to reveal his 
identity, nor was he questioned on that point. But one 
morning he declared his intention of taking his departure. 
“ My friend,” he said warmly, “ I know not how I may 
thank you for your brave loyalty. The time has come 
when you must know whom you have served so faithfully. 
Behold your unfortunate Emperor, overcome in battle, 
deprived of friends and followers and fortune!” 

At these astounding words the young charcoal-burner 
sank on his knees before the Emperor. 

“Sire,” he said, “you have yet one humble subject who 
will never forsake you while life remains to him.” 

“ I know,” replied the Emperor gently, raising him to his 
feet, “ and therefore I ask of you one last service. It is 
that you may lead me by, some secret path to the place 
where the remnant of my followers await me. Alas, that 
I, once so powerful, should be unable to offer you any 
token of a sovereign’s gratitude! ” 

“Sire,” ventured the youth, “methinks I may be privi¬ 
leged to render yet one more service to your Majesty.” 
Straightway he told the story of his hidden treasure and 
with simple dignity placed it at the disposal of his 
sovereign, asking for nothing in return but the right to 

z 353 


Hero Tales ^ Legends of the Rhine 

spend his strength in the Emperor’s service—a right 
which was readily accorded him. 

The gold, now withdrawn from its place of concealment, 
proved to be a goodly store, and with it the Emperor 
had no difficulty in raising another army. Such was the 
courage and confidence of his new troops that the first 
battle they fought resulted in victory. But the most 
valiant stand was made by the erstwhile charcoal-burner, 
who found on that field the opportunity of which he had 
long dreamt. The Emperor showed his recognition of 
the gallant services by knighting the young man on the 
field of battle. On the eminence whither the old hermit 
had led him the knight built a castle which was occupied 
by himself and his successors for many generations. 

And thus did the charcoal-burner become the knight of 
Zahringen, the friend of his Emperor, the first of a long 
line of illustrious knights, honoured and exalted beyond 
his wildest dreams. 

Conclusion 

With this legend we close on a brighter and more hopeful 
note than is usually associated with legends of the Rhine. 
The reader may have observed in perusing these romances 
how closely they mirror their several environments. For 
the most part those which are gay and buoyant in spirit 
have for the places of their birth slopes where is prisoned 
the sunshine which later sparkles in the wine-cup and 
inspires song and cheerfulness. Those, again, which are 
sombre and tragic have as background the gloomy forest, 
the dark and windy promontory which overhangs the 
darker river, or the secluded nunnery. In such sur¬ 
roundings is fostered the germ of tragedy, that feeling of 
the inevitable which is inherent in all great literature. It 
354 


Conclusion 

is to a tragic imagination of a lofty type that we are 
indebted for the greatest of these legends, and he who 
cannot appreciate their background of gloomy grandeur 
will never come at the true spirit of that mighty literature 
of Germany, at once the joy and the despair of all who 
know it. 

Countless songs, warlike and tender, sad and passionate, 
have been penned on the river whose deathless tales we 
have been privileged to display to the reader. But no 
such strains of regret upon abandoning its shores have 
been sung as those which passed the lips of the English 
poet, Byron, and it is fitting that this book should end 
with lines so appropriate: 

Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long delighted 
The stranger fain would linger on his way! 

Thine is a scene alike where souls united 
Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray; 

And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey 
On self-condemning bosoms, it were here, 

Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, 

Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere, 

Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year. 

Adieu to thee again ! a vain adieu ! 

There can be no farewell to scene like thine; 

The mind is colour’d by thy every hue; 

And if reluctantly the eyes resign 

Their cherish’d gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine ! 

’Tis with the thankful heart of parting praise ; 

More mighty spots may rise, more glaring shine, 

But none unite in one attaching maze 
The brilliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days. 

The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom 
Of coming ripeness, the white city’s sheen, 

The rolling stream, the precipice’s gloom, 

The forest’s growth, and Gothic walls between, 

The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been, 

In mockery of man’s art: and there withal 
A race of faces happy as the scene, 

Whose fertile bounties here extend to all, 

Still springing o’er thy banks, though Empires near them fall. 

355 






GLOSSARY &> INDEX 







































V 












GLOSSARY &> INDEX 


A 

Aar. Tributary of the Rhine, 6 
Abeling, T. And the historical 
theory of the origin of the 
Nibelungenlied, 307 
Abraham. A Jew; in the legend 
of the Treasure-seeker, 137 
Acre. The city, in Syria, 171 
Adalbert. Lord of Ehrenfels ; in 
a legend of Bishop Hatto, 209- 
211 

Adeline. Daughter of Sir Bodo 
of Florsheim ; in the legend of 
the Shepherd Knight, 244-248 
Adolf. Duke of Holland; a 
claimant to the German throne 
after the death of Conrad IV, 181 
Aducht, Sir. A knight of Cologne ; 
in the legend of the White 
Horses, 118-120 

Aegidius. A Roman general; 

elected King of the Franks, 25-26 
Agathe. A maiden ; in a legend of 
Aix-la-Chapelle, 128-129 
Agrippus. A German prince ; in 
the legend of St. Ursula, 75-77 
Aix - la - Chapelle. The city ; 
Charlemagne’s tomb at, 29, 40 ; 
Charlemagne’s affection for, 40 ; 
legends of, 127-133 ; Charle¬ 
magne’s capital, 127 ; the legend 
of the Cathedral of, 129-133 ; 
mentioned, 176 

Alberich. In the Nibelungenlied, 
a dwarf; vanquished by Siegfried, 
268, 271 

Albertus Magnus. A famous 
magician; in the legend of the 
Magic Banquet, 120-121 
Alchemist, The. A legend of 
Stolzenfels, 164-168 
Alchemy. A common pursuit in 
the Middle Ages, 164; in a 
legend of Stolzenfels, 164-168 
Alemanni. Early inhabitants of 
the Rhine-country, 15, 23, 24; 
conflicts with the Romans, 23 
Alfonso X. King of Castile; a 
claimant to the German throne 
after the death of Conrad IV, 181 


Alphere. In Walthar of A quitaine. 
King of Aquitaine; yields to 
Attila, 311 

Alsace. The province; Germany 
cedes, under the Peace of West¬ 
phalia, 51 

Alsace-Lorraine. The province; 

restored to Germany, 51-52 
Alta Villa. Roman station 
which afterward became the 
town of Elf eld, 225 
Altar of Bacchus. A stone in 
the Rhine near Bacharach ; a 
superstition connected with, 89 
Altdorfer, Albrecht. Painter ; 
the gruesome element in his work, 

105 

Amelrich. A hero; in the 
Nibelungenlied, Hagen pretends 
to be, 288-289 

Amelung. A knight at the court 
of Dietrich of Bern, 259 
Amina. Daughter of a robber- 
baron ; in a legend of Fiirsten- 
berg, 189-192 

Andernach. The town ; claimed 
as the home of the Merovingians, 
25; Childeric before, 26; a 
legend of the castle of, 82-84 ; 
Sigebert has his court at, 174 
Andwari. In the Volsunga Saga, 
a dwarf from whom Loki obtained 
the treasure of the Nibelungs, 299 
Annweiler. The town, 337, 338 
Aquitaine. The province; in 
Walthar of Aquitaine, Attila in¬ 
vades, 311 ; Walthar reaches, 
and rules over, 319-320 
Aquitaine, Walthar of. See 
Walthar of Aquitaine 
Archbishop of Cologne. At the 
trial of the maiden Lorelei, 62-63 
Archbishop’s Lion, The. A 
legend of Cologne, 115-118 
Architect of Cologne Cathedral, 
The. The legend, 78, 104-108 
Argenfels. The castle of; a 
legend of, 87-88 

Arminius. Teutonic chieftain ; 
defeats the Romans under Q. 
Varus, 21-22 


359 



Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


Arthur. The English king; 
parallel between Dietrich of Bern 
and. 258 

Atli. In the Volsunga Saga, King 
of the Huns, the same as Attila 
and Etzel; Brunhild prophesies 
that Gudrun will marry, 303 ; 
Gudrun marries, 304 ; covets the 
Rhinegold and endeavours to 
learn its whereabouts from Gun- 
nar, 304 ; causes Gunnar to be 
put to death, 305 ; slain, 305. 
See also Attila and Etzel 
Attila. King of the Huns, the 
same as Atli and Etzel; in 
Walthar of Aquitaine, 311-314. 
See also Atli and Etzel 
Auerbach. The castle of; the 
legend of the Cooper of, 255-257 
Augsburg. The city, 50 
Augustus. The Emperor; and 
the Germanic tribes, 20 
Aurelian. Roman Emperor; 

subdues the Rhenish peoples, 2 3 
Austrasia. The kingdom of, 28 ; 

incorporated with Franconia, 28 
Austria. Archduke of; Cceur- 
de-Lion imprisoned in Trifels 
Castle by, 337 


B 

Bacharach. The town; the 
maiden Lorelei dwelt in, 61 ; 
the ‘ Altar of Bacchus,’ near, 89 ; 
the castle of Schonburg near, 
183 ; the island of Pfalz near, 185 
Baden. The city, 340 
Baldwin. In the Song of the Saxons, 
one of Charlemagne’s knights, 
30 ; is loved by and marries 
Sebile and is crowned King of 
Saxony, 31-32 ; fights against 
the Saxons and is killed in battle, 
33-35 

Balmung. In the Nibelungenlied, 
Hagen's mighty sword, 296 
Balther, Sir. A knight of 
Truenfels ; a legend of, 122-124 
Baron's Rash Oath, The. A 
legend of Okkenfels, 154-158 
Basel, i . The city, 6 ; St. Ursula 
at, 76 ; the citizens of, and the 
wonderful clock of Strassburg, 
344-345. 2. Treaty of —see 

Treaty 

360 


Basina. Queen of Thuringia, wife 
of Basium, 26; becomes Chil- 
deric’s queen, 26; predicts to 
Childeric the fall of the Mero¬ 
vingians, 26-27 

Basium. King of Thuringia, 25 
Bata vii. Early Germanic tribe, 20 
Bavaria. Acquires Rhenish terri¬ 
tory as a result of the Congress of 
Vienna, 51 ; Gunther and Hagen 
pass through, on their journey 
to Attila’s court at Vienna, 290 
Bayer, Sir Conrad. A knight of 
Boppard; a legend of, 168-171 
Bechlarn. 1. The town; Rudiger 
of— see Rudiger; in the Klage, 
Attila’s messengers at, with 
tidings of the tragedy, 309. 2. The 
castle of ; in the Nibelungenlied, 
Kriemhild at, 285 ; Gunther and 
Hagen at, 290 

Beddoe, J. On the early Ger¬ 
manic people, 14-15 
Beethoven. The composer; a 
native of Bonn, 133 
Berard. In the Song of the Saxons, 
one of Charlemagne's knights, 30 ; 
marries Helissend, 32 ; killed by 
Feramor, 34 

Bergen. The city; the execu¬ 
tioner of, in a legend of Frank¬ 
fort, 252-253 

Bern. The city; Dietrich of— 
see Dietrich; mentioned, 260, 
261 

Bernard. Abbot of Clairvaux ; 

in a legend of Rosebach, 143-144 
Bertha. The bride of Sir Diptrich 
of Schwarzenbeck ; in a legend 
of Argenfels, 87-88 
Biberich. The town; a legend 
of the palace of, 239-242 
Bingen. The town; the most 
romantic portion of the Rhine 
valley begins at, 6; the Mouse 
Tower near, 206 
Birbach. The town, 253 
Bismarck, Prince. A story of, 
and Die Wacht am Rhein, 3-4 
Black Forest, The, 6, 21, 346 
Black Knight, The. In the 
legend of the Knave of Bergen, 
252-253 

Blind Archer, The. A legend of 
Fiirstenberg, 192-195 
Blodelin. In the Nibelungenlied, 
a Hunnish warrior; bribed by 



Glossary & Index 


Kriemhild to attack Dankwart, 
292 

Blondel. English knight; rescues 
Richard Cceur-de-Lion from Tri- 
fels Castle, 337-339 

Blumenberg Castle. In the 
legend of Osric the Lion, 237 

Bodel, Jean. Thirteenth-century 
French poet; his Song of the 
Saxons, 29 

Bodo, Sir. Lord of Florsheim; 
in the legend of the Shepherd 
Knight, 244-248 

Boer, R. C. And the historical 
theory of the origin of the 
Nibelungenlied, 307, 308 

Bonn. The city, 7 ; a legend of, 
i 33 _i 36; in the legend of the 
Treasure-seeker, 137; in the 
legend of the Miller’s Maid of 
Udorf, 141 

Boppard. The town ; a legend 
of, 168-171 

Borbetomagus. Ancient name of 
Worms, 13 

Bornhofen. The monastery of, 
171 

Brabant. The Duke of ; in the 
Lohengrin legend, 92 

Brauser, Hans, Graf von. In 
a legend of Riidesheim, 213-214 

Bremen. The city ; in the Han¬ 
seatic League, 50 

Bromser. Knight; in a legend 
of Riidesheim, 215-216 

‘ Brothers, The.’ The castles 
of Liebenstein and Sterrenberg 
called, 171 

Brunhild, or Brynhild. i. In 
the Nibelungenlied, Queen of 
Isenstein ; Gunther sets out to 
win, with the help of Siegfried, 
270 ; the story of Siegfried and, 
is different in the Scandinavian 
versions, 270; Siegfried’s en¬ 
counter with, and defeat of, 
271-273 ; again overcome by 
Siegfried, 274 ; loses her super¬ 
human strength on marriage, 
275 ; quarrels with Kriemhild 
over precedence, 275. 2. In the 
Volsunga Saga, one of the Val¬ 
kyrs, 270, 300; imprisoned on 
the mountain Hindarfjall, and 
rescued by Sigurd, 300 ; wedded 
to Gunnar, 301 ; quarrels with 
Gudrun, 302 ; attempts to take 


Gunnar’s life, 303 ; plans Sigurd’s 
death, 302-303 ; slays herself, 
303 ; regarded as a nature 
goddess, 307 ; identified with 
Brunichildis by Abeling, 307. 
3. In the Klage, the news of the 
tragedy carried to, by Swem- 
melin, 309, 310 

Brunhild Bed. A place near 
Frankfort, 298 

Brunichildis, or Brunhilda. 
Queen of Frankish Austrasia ; 
Brunhild identified with, by 
Abeling, 307 

Budli. In the Volsunga Saga, 
father of Brunhild, 301 ; the 
brother of, slain by Gunnar, 302 
Burgundians, The. Siegfried 
sojourns among, at Worms, and 
helps against the Danes and 
Saxons, 269 ; synonymous with 
the Nibelungs when the Nibe- 
lungen treasure enters Burgundy, 
284 ; the Huns and, in Walthar 
of A quitaine, 311 

Burgundy. The province, 202, 260 
C 

Caesar. See Julius 
Camillo. In Walthar of Aquitaine, 
the prefect of Metz; parleys 
with Walthar, 315-316 
Camp. The town; supposed to 
be a Roman site, 171 
Carloman. Nephew of Osric the 
Lion ; in a legend of Falken- 
stein Castle, 237-239 
Carolingians. The dynasty 
founded by Charlemagne, 28 
end of the dynasty, 41 
Caub, or Chaube. 1. Ancient name 
of Gutenfels, which see. 2. The 
modern town, 179 
Celts. Early inhabitants of the 
Rhine-country, 13-14 
Chalons-sur-Marne. The city, 311 
Charcoal-burner, The. A legend 
of Zahringen, 351-354 
Charlemagne. The Emperor, 28- 
29 ; his tomb at Aix-la-Chapelle, 
29, 40 ; a story of his wars with 
the Saxons, 29-37 ; the story of 
the wonderful gem and, 37-40 ; 
at the shrine of St. Goar, 176-177 ; 
apportions his Empire among 
his sons, 177-178 ; a legend of, 

361 




Hero Tales Legends of the Rhine 


associated with Ingelheim, 218- 
225 ; said to have founded the 
city of Frankfort-on-the-Main, 
248 

Charlemagne the Robber. A 
legend of Ingelheim, 218-225 
Charles the Bald. Emperor of 
the Romans, 41 

Charles the Fat. Emperor of 
the Romans, 41 

Chatti. Germanic tribe; in the 
Frankish confederacy, 23 
Chauci. Germanic tribe ; in the 
Frankish confederacy, 23 
Cherusci. Germanic tribe, 21 ; 

in the Frankish confederacy, 23 
Chevalier au Cygne, Le. A 
French version of the Lohengrin 
legend, 92 

Childeric I. King of the Franks, 
son of Merovig, 25 ; his vision 
of the fall of the Merovingians, 
26-27 

Chilperic I. King of the Franks, 
24-25 

Christianity. A legend of, 331— 
333 

Cleves. The castle of; in the 
Lohengrin legend, Elsa of Bra¬ 
bant imprisoned in, 92-93 
Clockmaker of Strassburg, The. 

The legend of, 342-346 
Clodio. Reputed father of Merovig, 

25 

Clovis I. King of the Franks, 
28 

Coblentz. The city ; the junction 
of the Rhine and Aar at, 6 ; the 
island and nunnery of Ober- 
worth near, 158, 159; Charle¬ 
magne at, 176 

Coire. The town; the Nearer 
and Farther Rhine unite near, 5 
Cologne, i . The city, 7,20,29; the 
Heinzelmannchen associated with, 
74-75 ; in the legend of St. Ursula, 
76-77 ; the legend of the Archi¬ 
tect of the cathedral of, 104- 
108 ; legends explaining why 
the building of the cathedral was 
never completed, 108-112; the 
legend of the Fire-bell of, 112- 
114; becomes a free city, 115; 
the legend of the Archbishop’s 
Lion, 115-118 ; the legend of 
the White Horses, 118-120 ; the 
legend of the Magic Banquet, 

362 


120-122 ; the legend of Truen- 
fels, 122-12 5 ; a tourney at, 
in the legend of Gutenfels, 179- 
180, 182. 2. Bishop of; in the 

legend of Truenfels, 122-123. 
3. Archbishop of ; in the legend 
of Gutenfels, 179 

Coman, Prince. Husband of St. 
Ursula, 76-77 

Company of Foresters, The. A 
guild ; in a legend of Frankfort, 
250 

Confederation of the Rhine. 
A League of Rhenish cities; 
German princes join and re¬ 
pudiate their allegiance to the 
Empire, 51 

Conference of the Dead, The. 

A legend of Biberich, 239-242 
Congress of Vienna. Conference 
of Great Powers ; Rhenish terri¬ 
tory restored to Prussia as a result 
of, 51 

Conrad, i. A son of Kurt; in the 
legend of Liebensteinand Sterren- 
berg, 172-174. 2. Brother of the 
Emperor Ludwig ; imprisoned in 
the castle of Ehrenfels, 209 
Conrad I. King of Germany, 41 
Conrad III. King of Germany, 
85 

Conrad IV. King of Germany; 
dispute as to the successon to, 
181 

Constance. i. Lake, 6, 163. 
2. The town, 6 

Constantine. Roman Emperor ; 
the vision of, occurred at Mainz, 
227-228 

Constantinople. The city, 173 
Cooper of Auerbach, The. The 
legend of, 73, 255-257, 324 
Cornwall, Earl of. See Richard 
Count Palatine. Ruler of the 
Palatinate, 42-43 

Cranach, Lucas. The painter; the 
gruesome element in his work, 

105 

Crescentius. One of the first 
apostles of Christianity on the 
Rhine, and first Archbishop of 
Mainz ; martyred at Mainz, 227 
Crusade, Third, 168 
Crusader, The. In Rhenish 
legend, 79 

Crusaders, 213, 215 

Cuno. Nephew of the Dean of 



Glossary Index 


Strassburg; in a legend of 
Windeck, 329-331 
Cyriacus, Pope. In the egend 
of St. Ursula, 76-77 

D 

Dance of Death. Supposed to 
be imposed on maidens who die 
between betrothal and marriage, 
162 

Dancers of Ramersdorf, The. 

The legend of, 145-146 
Danes, The. In the Nibelungenlied, 
Siegfried helps the Burgundians 
against, 269 ; the king of, slain 
by Gunnar, 302 

Dankwart. In the Nibelungenlied, 
brother of Hagen ; accompanies 
Gunther and Siegfried on the 
quest for the hand of Brunhild, 
270-271 ; Kriemhild bribes Blode- 
lin to attack, 292; slain, 294 
Danube. The river; in the 
Nibelungenlied, Hagen arrives at, 
and speaks with the swan- 
maidens of, 286-288 ; Hagen’s 
crossing of, 288-290 
Daria. Wife of Vionest, King of 
Britain, and mother of St. 
Ursula, 75 

Darmstadt. The town ; a legend 
of, 253-255 

Devil, The. In Teutonic legend, 
78. See Satan 

Devil’s Ladder, The. See Kedrich 
Devil’s Stone, The. A massive 
stone in Cologne Cathedral, 109 
Devil’s Vineyard, The. A 
legend of Worms, 261-263, 324 
Dietelint. See Dietlinde 
Diether. i. A captain of the 
guard of Graf Ludwig ; attempts 
to capture the Lorelei, 60-61'. 
2. Heinrich’s accomplice ; in the 
legend of the Miller’s Maid of 
Udorf, 140-141 

Dietleib of Styria. A knight 
of Dietrich of Bern's court; in 
the legend of the Rose Garden 
of Worms, 260 

Dietlinde, or Dietelint. Daugh¬ 
ter of Rudiger of Bechlarn ; in 
the Nibelungenlied, 285 ; in the 
Klage, 309-310 

Dietrich of Bern. King of the 
Goths; the King Arthur of 


German story, 258 ; a figure in 
many medieval stories, 258, 266 ; 
originally, as Theodoric the Ostro¬ 
goth, a genuine historical per¬ 
sonage, 258 ; in the legend of 
the Rose Garden of Worms, 258- 
261 ; in the Nibelungenlied, 
probably an interpolation in the 
original legend, 266; in the 
Nibelungenlied, with Etzel at 
Tulna, at the meeting with 
Kriemhild, 285 ; warns Gunther 
and Hagen of Kriemhild’s desire 
for vengeance, 290, 291 ; inter¬ 
venes in the conflict in Etzel’s 
banqueting-hall, 293, 294-295 ; 
his lament for Rudiger, 295 ; 
fights with Hagen and Gunther 
and defeats them, 296 ; in the 
Klage, 309, 310 

Dietrich, Sir, of Schwarzen- 
beck. In a legend of Argenfels, 
87-88 

Dobson, Mr. Austin. Mentioned, 
56 

Dortmund. The town, 29 

Drachenfels. 1. A mountain 
near Bonn, 125,152 ; a legend of, 
152-154 ; a suggested deriva¬ 
tion of the name, 154. 2. A 

peak of similar geological forma¬ 
tion, near Mannheim, 154. 3. 

Castle of ; in a legend of Roland, 
125-127 

Dragon's Cave, The. On the 
Drachenfels, 152, 153 

Dragon’s Rock, The. See 
Drachenfels 

Drinking Songs of the Rhine, 
89-91 

Durer, Albert. The painter ; the 
gruesome element in his pictures, 

105 

Durkheim. The town, 13 

Dwarfs. In Rhenish legend, 7 3-7 5 

Dyalas. A Saxon king; defies 

and fights with Charlemagne, 36- 
37 

E 

Eberstein. The nunnery of, 331, 
340 

Eckehart. A knight at the court 
of Dietrich of Bern, 259 

Eddas. Northern poetic com¬ 

pilations ; the Volsunga Saga is 
a prose paraphrase of, 298 

3 6 3 



Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


Edwin. Son of Sir Oswald 
of Fiirstenberg; in the legend 
of the Blind Archer, 192- 
195 

Eggermond, Eggerich von. Bro¬ 
ther-in-law of Charlemagne ; in 
the legend of Charlemagne the 
Robber, 221-225 

Ehrenfels. The castle of; a 
legend of Bishop Hatto and, 
209-211 

Eifel. A hilly plain, 14 

Eitil. In the Volsunga Saga, son 
of Atli and Gudrun ; slain by 
Gudrun, 305 

Elbegast. A robber-knight; in 
the legend of Charlemagne the 
Robber, 220-225 

Eldegarda. Spouse of Count 
Otto of Reuss-Marlinberg; in 
a legend of Rosebach, 143- 
144 

Elfeld. The principal town in 
the Rheingau, anciently Alta 
Villa; a legend of, 73, 225- 
227 

Elise. Wife of Wolfram Herzog 
von Bergendorf ; in a legend of 
Bonn, 134-13 5 

Elizabeth. Daughter of Arch¬ 
bishop Werner’s Treasurer; in 
the legend of the Alchemist, 164- 
168 

Else. In the Nibelungenlied, lord 
of lands near the Danube, 288, 
290 

Elz. 1. The Counts of ; hold the 
stewardship of Elfeld, 225. 2. 

Ferdinand, Count of ; a legend 
of, 225-227 

Endenich. A village near Bonn ; 
a legend of, 136-137 

Engelbert. Archbishop of Co¬ 
logne ; the legend of the Lion 
of, 115-118 

Eppo, Sir. Lord of Eppstein; 
in a legend of Eppstein Castle, 
242-244 

Eppstein. The castle of; a 
legend of, 242-244 

Ercildoune. Town in the south 
of Scotland, the modern Earls- 
ton ; Ursa probably associated 
with, 78 

Erp. In the Volsunga Saga, son 
of Atli and Gudrun ; slain by 
Gudrun, 305 

364 


Etelina. Daughter of Rheinhard 
von Renneberg ; in a legend of 
Okkenfels, 155-158 

Etzel. King of the Huns, the 
same as Attila and Atli; in the 
Nibelungenlied, 266; Kriemhild 
marries, 285-286 ; invites Hagen 
and Kriemhild's brothers to 
Vienna, 286; the Burgundians at 
the court of, 290-292 ; attacked 
by Hagen in his banqueting-hall, 
293 ; laments Hagen’s death, 
297 ; the historical figure and 
the Nibelungenlied, 308 ; in the 
Klage, 309, 310. See also Attila 
and Atli 

Eugenia. Daughter of the scholar 
Kenmat; in a story of Heidel¬ 
berg Castle, 44-48 


F 

Fafnir. In the Volsunga Saga, 
son of Hreithmar ; slays Hreith- 
mar, obtains the Nibelungen 
hoard, and takes the form of 
a dragon to guard it, 299 ; slain 
by Sigurd, 299 

Falkenburg. The castle of ; the 
legend of, 201-206 

Falkenstein. The town; Arch¬ 
bishop Werner of, in the legend 
of the Alchemist, 164-168 ; Sir 
Philip of, in a legend of Guten- 
fels, 179-182 ; Sir Kurt of, in 
a legend of Rudesheim, 216; 
The Wonderful Road, a legend 
of the castle of, 233-236; Osric 
the Lion, a legend of the castle, of 
236-239 

Falls of the Rhine. Near Schaff- 
hausen, 6 

Farther Rhine. One of the 
two main branches of the Rhine, 
5 

Fastrada. Fourth wife of Charle¬ 
magne ; the story of the wonder¬ 
ful gem and, 37-40 

Ferabras. In the Song of the 
Saxons, a Russian giant, 32-33 ; 
killed in battle by Baldwin, 33 

Feramor. In the Song of the Saxons, 
son of Guiteclin ; fights with and 
is killed by Baldwin, 34 

Ferdinand. Count of Elz ; a 
legend of, 225-227 



I 


Glossary 


Ferdinand III. Emperor of the 
Romans, 50 

Ferryman, The. In the Nibelun- 
genlied, 288-289 

Fiddler, The. A legend of Mainz 
Cathedral, 228-230 

Field of the Holy Cross. The 
place in the vicinity of Mainz 
where Constantine’s vision is 
supposed to have occurred, 228 

Fire-bell of Cologne Cathedral, 
The. The legend of, 112-114 

Florsheim. A village near Mainz ; 
Kunigunda von— see Kunigunda ; 
Sir Bodo of, in the legend of the 
Shepherd Knight, 244-248 

Folklore. The comparatively 
small element of, in the Rhine 
legends, 59, 78 

France. In the Thirty Years’ 
War, 50-51 ; extends her boun¬ 
daries to the Rhine, 51 ; loses 
her Rhine provinces as a result 
of the war of 1870-71, 51-52 

Franco - Prussian War. Of 
1870-71 ; France forfeits her 
Rhenish territory as a conse¬ 
quence of, 51-52 

Franconia. The province, 28, 
48 

Frankenstein. The castle of, 
40 

Frankfort - on - the - Main. The 
city ; said to have been founded 
by Charlemagne, 248 ; the legend 
of the Poacher of, 249-251 ; the 
legend of the Knave of Bergen, 
251-253 ; the Brunhild Bed 
near, 298 ; mentioned, 338 

Frankland. The country of the 
Franks ; in the Nibelungenlied, 
Gunther and Hagen journey 
through Eastern, 286 ; in Wal- 
thar of Aquitaine, Attila invades* 

3 11 

Franks. Early inhabitants of 
the Rhine country, 23, 24 ; the 
Nibelungenlied probably had its 
origin among, 298; in Walthar 
of Aquitaine, 311 

Fredegonda. Queen of the 
Frankish king Chilperic, 25 ; 
her feud with her sister-in-law 
of Austrasia, 28 

Frederick. Younger son of 

Count Louis III ; in a story of 
Heidelberg Castle, 44-48 


& Index 

Frederick I. Emperor of the 
Romans; and Charlemagne’s 
tomb, 40; and the Third 
Crusade, 168 

Frederick II. Emperor of the 
Romans; and Charlemagne’s 
tomb, 40 

French Revolution. Political 
effect upon the Rhine-country, 51 

Freya. Northern goddess of love ; 
in the legend of the Wolf’s Spring, 
323 

Friedel. A hunchback of Aix- 
la-Chapelle ; the legend of, 128- 
129 

Furst, Franz von. In a legend 
of Fiirstenberg, 189-192 

Furstenberg. The castle of ; the 
legend of the Phantom Mother 
of, 189-192 ; the legend of the 
Blind Archer, 192-195 


G 

Gallienus. Roman Emperor ; 

and the Germanic risings, 23 
Gautier, Th£ophile. Mentioned, 
56 

Gelfrat. In the Nibelungenlied, 
knight, brother to Else, 288; slain 
by Gunther’s men, 290 
Geneva. Canton, 5 
Genofeva. Wife of Count Sieg¬ 
fried of Andernach ; in a legend 
of Andernach, 83-84 
Gerbert von Isenburg. A young 
squire; in a legend of Ober- 
worth, 158-161 

Gerda. Daughter of the Lord of 
Rheinstein ; the legend of Kuno 
and, 195-200 

Germanicus. Roman Emperor ; in 
the Rhine-country, 22 
Germans, Early. See Teutons 
Germany. In the Thirty Years’ 
War, 50-51 ; regains Rhenish 
territory as a result of the war 
of 1870-71, 51-52 
Gernot. In the Nibelungenlied, 
brother of Kriemhild, 267 ; and 
the plot to slay Siegfried, 277 ; 
with Gunther and Hagen on the 
journey to Etzel’s court at 
Vienna, 290 ; slain by Rudiger, 
294 ; mentioned, 297 
Gernsbach. The town, 331 


3 6 5 




Hero Tales &* Legends of the Rhine 


Gibich. See Gibicho 
Gibicho. King of the Franks, 
the same as Gibich and Giuki; 
in the legend of the Rose Garden 
of Worms, 260; in the Volsunga 
Saga, Sigurd visits the court of, 
300-301 ; in Walthar of Aquitaine, 
assailed by Attila, and pays 
tribute, 311 ; death of, 312 
Gisela. Daughter of the knight 
Bromser ; in a legend of Rudes- 
heim, 215-216 

Giselher. In the Nibelungenlied, 
brother of Kriemhild, 267 ; and 
the plot to slay Siegfried, 277 ; 
with Gunther and Hagen on the 
journey to Etzel’s court at 
Vienna, 290 ; in the conflict in 
Etzel’s banqueting-hall, 293- 
294 ; slain by Wolf hart, 294 ; 
mentioned, 297 ; in the Klage, 
310 

Giuki. See Gibicho 
Gnita Heath. Fafnir takes the 
Nibelungen hoard to, 299 
Gnomes. In Rhenish legend, 73 
Goethe. The poet; influence of, 
upon German legends, 79 
Golo. The slanderer of Genofeva ; 
in a legend of Andernach, 83- 
84 

Gotelind, or Gotelint. Wife of 
Rudiger of Bechlarn; in the 
Nibelungenlied, 285 ; in the Klage, 
309-310 

Gottesthal. The convent of ; a 
legend of, 216-218 
Grail, Holy. In the Lohengrin 
legend, 94 

Gram. In the Volsunga Saga, 
Sigurd’s sword; Sigurd places it 
between himself and Brunhild, 
301 

Grand Prior of the Knights- 
Templars. In a legend of Ober- 
worth, 159-161 

Grani. In the Volsunga Saga, a 
magic steed given to Sigurd, 299 ; 
Sigurd rides through the flames 
to Brunhild upon, 300 ; Gunnar 
attempts to reach Brunhild upon, 
but fails, 301 

Graverow Type. Ethnological 
division; early Germans con¬ 
form to, 15 

Gregory of Tours. His Eccle¬ 
siastical History of the Franks, 28 

366 


Grein, Hermann. Burgomaster 
of Cologne ; in the legend of the 
Archbishop’s Lion, 115-118 

Gretchen. Daughter of Heribert; 
in the legend of the Treasure- 
seeker, 136-137 

Grimhild. In the Volsunga Saga, 
mother of Gudrun, equivalent 
to the Ute of the Nibelungen¬ 
lied, 274, 300; administers a 
potion to Sigurd to make him 
forget Brunhild, 274, 301 ; the 
same name as Kriemhild, 305 

Grimm, Jakob. Philologist; and 
the Klage, 309 

Grisons. Swiss canton; the Rhine 
rises in, 5 

Guba. Princess; in the legend 
of Pfalz, 185-189 

Guba von Isenburg. Mother of 
Gerbert von Isenburg; in a 
legend of Oberworth, 160 

Gudesburg. A village; in the 
legend of Wolfram Herzog von 
Bergendorf, 135 

Gudrun. In the Volsunga Saga, 
daughter of Giuki and Grimhild, 
equivalent to the Kriemhild of 
the Nibelungenlied, 274, 300 ; 

Sigurd marries, 301 ; quarrels 
with Brunhild, 302 ; goes to the 
court of King Half of Denmark, 
303 ; marries Atli, 304; fights 
against Atli, 304 ; secures Atli’s 
death, 305 ; the further story of, 
305 

Guiteclin. In the Song of the 
Saxons, King of the Saxons, 29; 
slain in single combat by Charle¬ 
magne, 30 

Gundahar. Burgundian king; the 
overthrow of the kingdom of, 
regarded as the historical nucleus 
of the Nibelungenlied, 307-308 

Gunnar. In the Volsunga Saga, 
son of King Giuki, 300 ; sets out 
to win the hand of Brunhild, 301 ; 
married to Brunhild, 301 ; plans’ 
the slaying of Sigurd’ 303 ; 
treacherously invited to Atli’s 
court, and captured, 304 ; death 
of, 305 ; equivalent to the 
Gunther of the Nibelungenlied, 
305 

Gunther. Son of King Gibicho, 
brother of Kriemhild, 1. In 
the Nibelungenlied, 267 ; Sieg- 



Glossary & Index 


fried accompanies, on an ex¬ 
pedition to gain Brunhild as 
wife, and conquers Brunhild for, 
270-273 ; Brunhild sets out for 
Worms with, 274 ; Siegfried 
again overcomes Brunhild for, 
274 ; Siegfried visits after ten 
years, and the feud begins, 275 ; 
lures Siegfried from his court 
on pretexts of war and of 
hunting, 275-276 ; and the slay¬ 
ing of Siegfried, 281-283 ; sends 
for the Nibelungen hoard to pro¬ 
pitiate Kriemhild, 284 ; journeys 
with Hagen to the court of 
Etzel at Vienna, 286-290; in 
the conflict in Etzel’s ban- 
queting-hall, 294 ; Dietrich tries 
to treat with, 295 ; fights with 
Dietrich and is defeated, 296; 
slain by Kriemhild, 297 ; equi¬ 
valent to the Gunnar of the 
Volsunga Saga, 305 ; in the 
Klage, 309. 2. In Walthar of 
Aquitaine, 311 ; succeeds Gibicho, 
312; learns of Walthar’s coming, 
314 ; opposes Walthar, 315-317; 
fights with Walthar, 318-319 
Guntram. A knight; in the 
legend of Falkenburg, 201-206 
Guta. i. Sister of Sir Philip of 
Falkenstein, and afterward, as 
wife of Richard of Cornwall, 
Empress of Germany; in the 
legend of Gutenfels, 179-183. 
2. Daughter of the Clockmaker 
of Strassburg, 342-346 
Gutenfels. The castle of; 
anciently named Caub, or 
Chaube ; a legend of, 179-183 
Gutthorm. In the Volsunga Saga, 
son of King Giuki, 300 ; slays, 
and is slain by, Sigurd, 303 

H 

Hadburg. In the Nibelungenlied, 
one of the swan-maidens of the 
Danube ; Hagen and, 287 
Hagen, i. In the Nibelungenlied, 
a mighty paladin, of Trony, in 
Burgundy, 266, 268—269 ; ac¬ 
companies Gunther and Siegfried 
on the expedition to win the 
hand of Brunhild, 270 ; swears 
vengeance on Siegfried for the 
offence against Brunhild, 275 ; 


learns from Kriemhild Siegfried’s 
vulnerable spot, 276 ; goes hunt¬ 
ing with Hagen and Siegfried, 
276-281 ; lures Siegfried to drink 
at a spring and slays him, 281- 
283 ; sinks the treasure of the 
Nibelungs in the Rhine, 284, 291 ; 
and Kriemhild’s marriage to 
Etzel, 285 ; invited to Etzel’s 
court at Vienna, 286 ; and the 
swan-maidens of the Danube, 

287- 288 ; and the ferryman, 

288- 289 ; and the chaplain, 289- 

290 ; at Etzel’s court, 290-292 ; 
slays Ortlieb, 293 ; in the conflict 
in Etzel’s banqueting-hall, 293- 
294 ; Dietrich of Bern tries to 
treat with, 295 ; fights with 
Dietrich, and is defeated, 296 ; 
slain by Kriemhild, 297 ; equiva¬ 
lent to the Hogni of the Volsunga 
Saga, 305 ; identified with Hag- 
nerius by Abeling, 307 ; in the 
Klage, 309. 2. In Walthar of 

Aquitaine, a noble youth, given 
as hostage to Attila by Gibicho, 
311 ; escapes, 312 ; at Gunther’s 
court, 314 ; with Gunther meets 
Walthar, but refuses to attack 
him, 315-316; fights with Wal¬ 
thar, 318-319 

Hagen Well. A well at Lorch, 
298 

Hagnerius. Identified with Hagen 
by Abeling, 307 

Half. King of Denmark ; in the 
Volsunga Saga, Gudrun goes to 
the court of, 303 

Hamburg. The city; in the Han¬ 
seatic League, 50 

Hammerstein. A beautiful valley 
in the Rhine-country, 141, 144 

Hannchen. Maid of the miller 
of Udorf ; the legend of, 138- 
141 

Hans, Graf von Brauser— see 
Brauser 

Hanseatic League. A federation 
of German towns; its wide 
influence, 49-50 ; decline of, 50 

Hardt Mountains. A legend of, 
230-232 

Hari. ‘ The High One,’ one of 
Odin’s titles; possibly con¬ 

nected with the name Herne, 68 

Hatto, Bishop. Archbishop of 

Mainz ; in history and in tradi- 

3 6 7 



Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


tion, 206 ; in the legend of the 
Mouse Tower of Bingen, 206- 
209 ; in the legend of Ehrenfels, 
209-211 ; mentioned, 228 
Heidelberg. i. The city, 321 ; 
the legend of the Wolf’s Spring 
of, 321-324. 2. The castle of ; 

a story of, 44-48 ; the legend of 
the Jester of Heidelberg, 324- 
325. 3. The University of ; the 

Trumpeter of Sackingen at, 347 
Heimir. In the Volsunga Saga, 
brother-in-law of Brunhild, 301 
Heine. The poet; his Die 
Lorelei, 90-91 

Heinrich, i. Hannchen’s lover; 
in the legend of the Miller’s Maid 
of Udorf, 138-141. 2. A son of 

Kurt; in the legend of Lieben- 
stein and Sterrenberg, 172-174 
Heinz. A hunchback of Aix-la- 
Chapelle ; the legend of, 128-129 
Heinzelmannchen. Dwarfs asso¬ 
ciated with Cologne, 74-75 
Heisterbach. The Abbot of ; 
Graf Hermann von Heinsberg 
and, 146 

Helche. In the Nibelungenlied, 
wife of Etzel, 285 

Heldenbuch. Ancient German 
work in which deeds of the 
heroes are recounted, 73 
Helissend. In the Song of the 
Saxons, daughter of Milo of 
Cologne, and Sebile’s favourite, 
31 ; marries Berard, 32 
Helyas. A French version of the 
Lohengrin legend, 92 
Hennegraben. A trench near 
the castle of Windeck; a legend 
of, 328-331 

Henry. Son of Henry IV, after¬ 
ward the Emperor Henry V; 
in a legend of Speyer, 326-327 
Henry the Fowler. Henry I, 
Emperor of the Romans, 41, 49 ; 
in the Lohengrin legend, 93 
Henry III. King of England, 181 
Henry IV. Emperor of the 
Romans ; a legend of, 326-327 
Henry V. Emperor of the Romans; 

in a legend of Speyer, 326-327 
Henry VI. King of England, 50 
Herbrand. A knight at the court 
of Dietrich of Bern, 259 ; in 
the legend of the Rose Garden 
of Worms, 259-261 

368 


Heribert. A sheriff of Endenich ; 
in the legend of the Treasure - 
seeker, 136 

Hermann, i . A Prince Palatine ; 
in the legend of Pfalz, 185-187. 
2. Son of the foregoing, 188- 
189 

Hermann von Heinsberg. Lord 
of the castle on the Lowenburg ; 
a legend of, 146-151 
Herne the Hunter. The legend 
of; the story of the Wild 
Huntsman allied to, 68 ; Herne 
is equivalent to Odin, 68 
Herrat. Wife of Dietrich of 

Bern ; in the Klage, 309 
Herric. In Walthar of Aquitaine, 
King of the Burgundians, 311 
Hersel. A village near Bonn ; in 
the legend of the Miller’s Maid 
of Udorf, 138, 140 
Herthe. An ancient Rhine 
goddess ; in a legend of Heidel¬ 
berg, 321-324 ; in the legend of 
the Klingelkapelle, 331, 332 
Hervegh, Georg. Poet; the 
Rheinweinlied of, 89 
Hilchen von Lorch, Sir. In the 
legend of Kedrich, 82 
Hildebrand. Son of Herbrand ; 
a knight at the court of Dietrich 
of Bern, 259, 260 ; in the Nibe¬ 
lungenlied, and the conflict in 
Etzel’s banqueting-hall, 294-295 ; 
slays Kriemhild, 297 
Hildegarde. A maiden ; in the 
legend of Liebenstein and Ster¬ 
renberg, 172-174 

Hildegund. In Walthar of Aqui¬ 
taine, daughter of Herric ; given 
as hostage to Attila, 311 ; escapes 
with Walthar and shares his ad¬ 
ventures, 313-319; weds Walthar, 
3i9 

Hindarfjall. A mountain ; in the 
Volsunga Saga, Sigurd rescues the 
sleeping Brunhild on, 300 
Hnifling. In the Volsunga Saga, 
son of Hogni ; slays Atli, 305 
Hochsteden, Conrad von. Bishop 
of Cologne ; in the legend of 
the Architect of Cologne Cathe¬ 
dral, 105, 107 

Hogni. In the Volsunga Saga, 
son of King Giuki, 300 ; urged 
by Gunnar to slay Sigurd, but 
refuses, 303 ; lured to the court 



Glossary 


of Atli, and subsequently slain, 
304 ; equivalent to the Hagen 
of the Nibelungenlied, 305 
Hohberg Type. Ethnological 
division ; early Germans conform 
to, 15 

Hold a. A Northern earth-god¬ 

dess ; identified with the Teutonic 
Ursa, or Horsel, 77 
Holland. The Rhine in, 5, 7 
Holland, Duke of. See Adolf 
Holy Land. See Palestine 
Homburg. The town ; Falkenstein 
Castle near, 233 

Horsel. Teutonic moon-goddess, 
the same as Ursa, and equivalent 
to the Northern Holda; St. 
Ursula identified with, 77 
Horselberg. The mountain in 
Thuringia in which Venus held 
her court, 78 

Horsrik. A pagan prince ; in a 
legend of Drachenfels, 152 
Hreithmar. In the Volsunga Saga, 
father of Fafnir ; given the trea¬ 
sure of the Nibelungs by Loki as 
a weregild, 298-299; slain by 
Fafnir, 299 

Hugo. Son of Kunigunda; in 
a legend of Furstenberg, 190- 
192 

Hunchbacked Musician, The. A 
legend of Aix-la-Chapelle, 128- 
129 

Huns. Attila, or Etzel, King of 
the, 285 


I 

Iceland. Early versions of theNibe- 
lungenlied story current in, 298 
Ida. Daughter of the Freiherr 
von Mettemich ; in a legend -of 
Oberworth, 158-164 
Ildico. Wife of Attila, the his¬ 
torical figure; in the Nibelun¬ 
genlied, 308 

III. Tributary of the Rhine, 6 
Ilsan. Son of Herbrand, a knight 
of Dietrich of Bern’s court; in 
the legend of the Rose Garden 
of Worms, 260-261 
Imma. Niece of the Dean of Strass- 
burg ; in a legend of Windeck, 
329-331 

Ingelheim. The town; Charle¬ 
magne at, 176 ; a legend of 


& Index 

Charlemagne associated with, 
218-225 ; origin of the name, 225 
Isenburg, Baron von. In a legend 
of Oberworth, 161 
Isenstein. A legendary locality; 
Brunhild Queen of, 270 ; Brun¬ 
hild sets out from, with Gunther, 
274 


J 

Jerusalem. The city, 227 

Jester of Heidelberg, The. A 
legend of Heidelberg Castle, 324- 
325 

J ette. A prophetess of the goddess 
Herthe ; in the legend of the 
Wolf's Spring, 321-324 

Jikjak, Captain. A robber leader ; 
a story of, 58 

Julius Caesar. Conquered Ger¬ 
manic tribes, 20 


K 

Karloman. Son of Charlemagne ; 
quarrels with his brother Pepin, 
and is reconciled at the shrine 
of St. Goar, 177-178 
Katwijk. The town, 7 
Kedrich. A mountain near 
Lorch, popularly known as * the 
Devil’s Ladder ’; a story of, 81-82 
Keightley, T. His Fairy Mytho¬ 
logy, quoted, 74-75 
Kenmat. A noted scholar ; in a 
story of Heidelberg Castle, 44 
Klage, The. A sequel to the 
Nibelungenlied, 308-309; a. resume 
of, 309-310 

Klingelkapelle,The. The legend 
of, 331-333 

Knave of Bergen, The. A legend 
of Frankfort, 251-253 
Knight and the Yellow Dwarf, 
The. A legend of Elf eld, 225- 
227 

Knights-Templars. The order ; 
a Grand Prior of, at the castle of 
Lahneck, 159-161 ; Sir Conrad 
Bayer joins, 171 
Konigswinter. The town, 89 
Konrad. A locksmith, son of a 
sheriff of Endenich ; the legend 
of, 136-137 

Konrad, Master. A writer ; and 
the Klage, 310 


2 A 


369 



Hero Tales <§? Legends of the Rhine 


Kopisch, August. Poet; song of 
the Rhine by, 90 

Kreuzberg. A mountain in the 
Rhongebirge ; the convent of 
Marienberg founded on, 170 
Kriemhild. In the Nibelungen- 
lied, a princess of Rhineland, 
famous for her beauty, 267-268 ; 
meets Siegfried, 269-270 ; equi¬ 
valent to the Gudrun of the 
Volsunga Saga, 274, 305 ; mar¬ 
ried to Siegfried, 275 ; quarrels 
with Brunhild over precedence, 
275 ; innocently marks Sieg¬ 
fried’s vulnerable spot for the 
treacherous Hagen, 276 ; her 
farewell to Siegfried, 277-278 ; 
vows vengeance for the slaying 
of Siegfried, 284 ; marries Etzel, 
King of the Huns, 285 ; Ortlieb, 
her son, 286 ; induces Etzel to 
invite Hagen and his brothers to 
Vienna, 286 ; bribes Blodelin to 
attack Dankwart, 292 ; and the 
conflict in Etzel’s banqueting- 
hall, 293-294 ; Dietrich sur¬ 
renders Hagen and Gunther to, 
whom she slays, 296-297 ; slain 
by Hildebrand, 297 ; in the 
Klage, 309 

Kromme Rijn. A branch of the 
Rhine, 7 

Kugelgen, Joseph. Writer; and 
the legend of Liebenstein and 
Sterrenberg, 171 

Kunigunda von Florsheim. Wife 
of Franz von Fiirst ; in a legend 
of Fiirstenberg, 189-191 

Kuno. 1. Lord of Reichenstein ; 
the legend of Gerda of Rhein- 
stein and, 195-200. 2. Knight of 
Sayn ; in a legend of Falkenstein 
Castle, 233-236 

Kurt. i. A knight; in the legend 
of Liebenstein and Sterrenberg, 
172. 2. Uncle to Kuno ; in the 
legend of Rheinstein and Reichen¬ 
stein, 196-200. 3. Of Falken¬ 

stein ; in the legend of Gisela, 
216. 4. Servant of Henry IV ; 

in a legend of Speyer, 326- 

327 

L 

Laach. The forest of ; in a legend 
of Andernach, 83 

370 


Lachmann, Karl. Philologist; his 
theory of the origin of the 
Nibelungenlied, 265 
Lahneck. The castle of; in a 
legend of Oberworth, 159 
Landquart. Tributary of the 
Rhine, 6 

Laufenburg. The town, 6 
League of the Rhine, The. See 
Confederation of the Rhine 
Legends. Of the Rhine; the 
comparatively small folklore ele¬ 
ment in, 59, 78 ; the romantic 
element in, 59, 78-79 ; the ele¬ 
ment of sadness and tragedy 
in, 179, 185 ; the sad or lighter 
nature of, mirrored in their en¬ 
vironment, 354 

Leonora. Daughter of the Count 
of Luzenstein ; in a story of 
Heidelberg Castle, 44-46 
Leopold II. Holy Roman Em¬ 
peror; and the French Revo¬ 
lution, 51 

Lewis, Monk. Writer; his ver> 
sion of the legend of Osric the 
Lion, 236-239 

Lib a. 1. Daughter of Sir Balther ; in 
the legend of Truenfels, 122-125. 
2. Lady of Falkenburg ; in the 
legend of Falkenburg, 201-206 
Liebenstein. The castle of ; the 
legend of Sterrenberg and, 84- 
86; a variant of the same 
legend, 171-174 

Liebfrauenmilch. A delicious 
wine ; in the legend of the 
Devil’s Vineyard, 262-263 
LiLge. The city ; a legend of, 
97-101 ; Henry IV’s pilgrimage 
to, 326 

Limmat. The river, 6 
Linz. The town, 21; the stronghold 
of Okkenfels near, 154 
Lion. The Archbishop of Cologne’s ; 

the legend of, 115-118 
Lion. In Walthar of Aquitaine, 
Walthar’s charger, 313, 317 
Lohengrin. The Knight of the 
Swan ; the German version of 
the legend of, 92-96 
Loki. God of evil, in Scandinavian 
myth ; in the Volsunga Saga, 
gives the treasure of the Nibe- 
lungs to Hreithmar as a weregild, 
298-299 ; obtained the treasure 
from Andwari, 299 



Glossary 


Lorch, or Lordch. The town ; 
the ‘Devil’s Ladder’ near, 81 
the Hagen Well at, 298 
Lorelei, i. A water-spirit of the 
Rhine, 59, 65 ; a legend of, 59- 
61 ; paralleled in the water- 
kelpie, 65 ; mentioned, 185. 
2. A damsel of surpassing beauty; 
the story of, 61-64. Blending of 
the legends, 64 

Loreleiberg. A cliff on the 
Rhine, near St. Goar; the haunt 
of the Lorelei, 59 

Lorraine, Upper and Lower. 
Ancient divisions of Rhenish terri¬ 
tory, 42 

Lors. The abbey of; in the 
Klage, Queen Ute dies at, 310 
Lothair I. Emperor of the 
Romans, 41 

Lotharingia. Ancient name of 
Lorraine; the Rhine the boundary 
between Germany and, 42 
Louis the German. King of Ger¬ 
many, 28, 41 

Louis I. Emperor of the Romans ; 
succeeds Charlemagne, 40. See 
also Ludwig (2) 

Louis II. Emperor of the Romans, 14 
Louis III. Count Palatine; in 
a story of Heidelberg Castle, 44 
Louis IV. Count Palatine ; in a 
story of Heidelberg Castle, 44-46 
Lowenburg. 1. The Abbot of ; in 
the legend of the Dancers of 
Ramersdorf, 145. 2. A moun¬ 

tain ; a legend of, 146-151 
Lubeck. The city ; promoter of 
the Hanseatic League, 49 ; and 
the League’s decline, 50 
Ludlow, J. M. His Popular Epics 
of the Middle Ages, quoted, 29-37 
Ludwig, i. Graf, son of a Prince 
Palatine ; captured by the Lore¬ 
lei, 60. 2. Son of Charlemagne 
(= Louis I); and the apportion¬ 
ment of his father’s Empire, 177- 
178 ( see also Louis I). 3. A Prince 
Palatine ; in the legend of Pfalz, 
185-188. 4. Emperor (= Louis 

the Child) ; in a legend of Bishop 
Hatto and . Ehrenfels, 209-211. 
5. Emperor (= Louis IV) ; and 
the town of Elf eld, 225 
Lun£ville. Treaty of. See Treaty 
Luzenstein. The Count of; in a 
story of Heidelberg Castle, 44-46 


& Index 

Lying-field, The. At Thann ; 
the legend of, 340-341 

M 

Maas. The river ; a branch of the 
Rhine flows into, 7 
Magic Banquet, The. A legend 
of Cologne, 120-122 
Maguntiacum. Ancient name of 
Mainz, 13, 227 

Maiden’s Caprice, The. A legend 
of Worms, 263-264 
Maiden’s Leap, The. A legend 
of the Hardt Mountains, 230- 
232 

Main. A tributary of the Rhine, 

286 

Mainz, or Mayence. The city, 
6, 20 ; Hatto the Archbishop of, 
206; Ludwig holds his court at, 
210-211 ; the principal fortress 
on the Upper Rhine in Roman 
times, 227 ; the scene of the 
martyrdom of Crescentius, and 
of Constantine’s famous vision, 
227-228 ; ancient renown of, 
228 ; the cathedral of, 228 ; a 
legend of the cathedral of, 228- 
230 ; mentioned, 240, 263 
Mannheim. The city, 154 
Margaret. Princess of Savoy ; 
in a story of Heidelberg Castle, 
44-45 

Margaretha. A maiden ; in the 
legend of the Trumpeter of 
Sackingen, 347-351 
Maria. A maiden ; in a legend of 
Boppard, 168-171 
Marienberg. The convent of ; 

how it came to be founded, 171 
Martha. Daughter of Ruthard ; 
in the legend of the Sword- 
slipper of Solingen, 101-102, 104 
Matiacci. Early Germanic tribe 
20 

Mauseturm. = The Mouse Tower, 
which see ; the name regarded 
as a corruption of Mauth-turm 
(‘ toll-tower ’), 206 
Maxentius. Roman Emperor, 228 
Mayence. Same as Mainz, which 
see 

Merovig. Frankish king, founder 
of the Merovingian dynasty, 25 
Merovingians. A dynasty of 
Frankish kings, 24-25 


37 1 



Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


Metternich, The Freiherr von. 
A nobleman of Coblentz; in 
a legend of Oberworth, 158-162 
Metz. The city ; formerly capital 
of Austrasia, 28 
Meuse. The river, 41, 42, 98 
Miller’s Maid of Udorf, The. 

The legend of, 138-141 
Minna. Daughter of. Hans, Graf 
von Brauser; in a legend of 
Rudesheim, 213-215 
Moltke, Count von. The field- 
marshal, 4 

Moon-worship. A custom pointing 
to, in medieval Germany, 77 
Moselle. A tributary of the Rhine, 
41, 42 

Mount, The. The castle of Sir 
Balther; in the legend of Truen- 
fels, 122-124 

Mouse Tower (Mauseturm). A 
tower on an island near Bingen ; 
the legend of Bishop Hatto and, 
89, 206-209 

Muller, Wolfgang. Poet; song 
of the Rhine by, 89-90 
Mummel-lake. A subterranean 
lake, the abode of water-spirits ; 
a legend of, 66-67 
Munchenzell. The monastery 
of; in the Nibelungenlied, Ilsan 
a monk in, 260 

N 

Nassau. i. George Augustus, 
Duke of ; builder of the palace 
of Biberich, 240. 2. A Duchess 

of ; in a legend of the palace 
of Biberich, 240-242 
Naymes. Knight, of Bavaria ; in 
the Song of the Saxons, 35, 37 
Nearer Rhine. One of the two 
main branches of the Rhine, 5 
Neckar. Tributary of the Rhine ; 
the junction with the Rhine at 
Heidelberg, 321 

Nemetes. Early Germanic tribe, 20 
Neustria. The kingdom, 28 
New Market. In Cologne, 119 
Nibelungen Not. The section of 
the Nibelungenlied commencing 
with the Burgundian acquirement 
of the Nibelungen hoard, 284 
Nibelungenlied. The epic; 
Worms the locality of, 258, 264 ; 
antiquity of the legend, 265 ; 

372 


controversy respecting its origin, 
265, 298, 306-308 ; probable 

interpolations in the legend, 266 ; 
the effort to give it definite 
form, 266-267 ; the early manu¬ 
scripts of, 267 ; its fragmentary 
nature, 267 ; difference in the 
German and Scandinavian ver¬ 
sions respecting the Brunhild 
and Siegfried story, 270 ; con¬ 
nexion of Walthar of Aquitaine 
with, 292, 311 ; the Volsunga 
Saga an old form of the story of, 
305-306; the mythological and 
historical elements in, 306-308 
Nibelungs. A mythical race. 
1. In the Nibelungenlied, the 
sword and treasure of, won by 
Siegfried, 268 ; the treasure of, 
sunk in the Rhine by Hagen, 
284 ; synonymous with the Bur¬ 
gundians, when the treasure 
enters Burgundy, 284 ; the 
treasure of, Kriemhild demands, 
and Hagen refuses, 291, 296-297 ; 
the fateful end of, 298. 2. In 

the Volsunga Saga, the story of 
the treasure of, 298-305 
Nixie. A water-spirit, 65 ; legend 
of the nixie of the Mummel- 
lake, 66-67 

Nonnenwerth. The convent of ; 

in a legend of Roland, 12 5-127 
Novgorod. Russian city; leads a 
campaign against the Hanseatic 
League, 50 

Nun of Oestrich. The. The 
legend of, 217-218 
Nuremberg. The city ; in the 
Hanseatic League, 50 

O 

Oberworth. An island in the 
Rhine near Coblentz, site of a 
famous nunnery ; a legend of, 
158-164 

Odenwald. A mountainous region ; 
Siegfried and Gunther go to 
hunt in, 276 ; mentioned, 298 
Odin. Supreme deity in Scan¬ 
dinavian mythology, the same 
as Woden ; the Wild Huntsman 
is equivalent to, 68 ; Herne the 
Hunter is, 68 ; and Brunhild, 
270 ; regarded as a nature-god, 
307. See also Woden 



Glossary 

Oelberg. One of the mountains 
of the Siebengebirge; Truenfels 
near, 122 

Oestrich. The town ; the legend 
of the Nun of, 216-218 
Okkenfels. A ruined stronghold 
near Linz ; a legend of, 154-158 
Oppenheim. The town ; a story 
of, connected with the Thirty 
Years’ War, 52-55 
Ortlieb. In the Nibelungenlied, 
son of Kriemhild and Etzel, 
286 ; slain by Hagen, 293 
Osric THE Lion. A legend of 
Falkenstein Castle, 236-239 
Oswald, Sir. Lord of Fiirsten- 
berg ; a legend of, 192-195 
Otto. i. Count of Reuss-Marlin- 
berg of Hammerstein; in a 
legend of Rosebach, 142-144. 

2. A knight who took service 
as a shepherd ; in a legend of 
Florsheim, 244-248 
Otto I. Emperor of the Romans, 
41, 42 

Otto III. Emperor of the Romans ; 
and Charlemagne’s tomb at Aix- 
la-Chapelle, 40 

Otur, or Otter. In the Vol- 
sunga Saga, son of Hreithmar ; 
slain by Loki, 299 
Oude Rijn. A branch of the 
Rhine, 7 

P 

Palatinate, The. A German 
state, 42-43 

Palestine. Mentioned in the 
legend of Boppard, 169-171 ; 
in the legend of Liebenstein and 
Sterrenberg, 172 ; in the legend 
of Minna of Rudesheim, 213 ; 
in the legend of Gisela, 215 ; in 
the legend of the Shepherd 
Knight, 247 

Palsgrave. = Count Palatine ; 
mentioned, 201 

Pannonia. The province, 14, 16 
Pantulus. A saint; in the legend 
of St. Ursula, 76 

Parsifal. One of the knights of 
the Grail; in the Lohengrin 
legend, sends Lohengrin to help 
Elsa, 93-94 

Parzival. Wolfram von Eschen- 
bach’s romance, 92 


^ Index 

Passau. The city; mentioned in 
the Klage, 309 

Passing Bells, The. A legend 
of Speyer, 326-327 
Patavrid. In Walthar of Aqui¬ 
taine, nephew of Hagen ; fights 
with Walthar, 316 
Pater, Walter. His story Duke 
Karl of Rosenwald, 43 
Peace of Westphalia. Treaty 
which ended the Thirty Years’ 
War; effect upon the Rhine- 
country, 51 

Pepin. King of Italy, son of 
Charlemagne ; quarrels with his 
brother Karloman, and is recon¬ 
ciled at the shrine of St. Goar, 
177-178 

Pepin of Heristal. A ruler of the 
Franks ; overthrows the Mero¬ 
vingian dynasty, 28 
Pepin the Short. King of the 
Franks, father of Charlemagne, 28 
Perron, Jacques. A blacksmith ; 

in a legend of Li£ge, 97-101 
Pfalz. An island, near Bacharach ; 

the legend of, 185-189 
Pfalzgrafenstein. A castle on 
the island of Pfalz; in the legend 
of Pfalz, 185-188 

Phantom Mother of Fursten- 
berg. The. The legend of, 189-192 
Philip of Falkenstein, Sir. See 
Falkenstein 

Picard. A robber leader ; a story 
of. 57 

Pilgrin, Bishop. Of Passanform; 
has the Nibelungenlied story re¬ 
corded, 310 

Plague. Of 1440, in Germany, 118 
Poacher of Frankfort, The. 

The legend of, 249-251 
Pope, The. Under the German 
Emperors of the Holy Roman 
Empire, 41 

Priests’ Gate. Gate of a monas¬ 
tery in Cologne, associated with 
the legend of the Archbishop’s 
Lion, 118 

Probus. Roman Emperor; sub¬ 
dues the Rhenish peoples and 
builds a wall, 23-24 
Proxy, The. A legend of Darm¬ 
stadt, 253-255 

Prussia. Cedes to France her 
territory on the left bank of the 
Rhine, 51 


373 



Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


Q 

Quintilius Varus. Roman general; 
defeated by the Germanic tribes, 
21-22 

R 

Rafaello. An Italian boy ; in 
a story of Heidelberg Castle, 
44-48 

Ramersdorf, The Dancers of. 

The legend of, 145-146 
Regensburg. The town, 21 
Regin. In the Volsunga Saga, 
brother of Fafnir ; seeks Fafnir 
with Sigurd, 299 ; slain by 
Sigurd, 300 

Reichenau. The town ; the 
Nearer and Farther Rhine unite 
at, 5 

Reichenstein. The castle of ; 
the legend of Rheinstein and, 
195-200 

Renneberg, Rheinhard von. Lord 
of Okkenfels ; in a legend of 
Okkenfels, 154-158 
Reuss. The river, 6 
Reuss - Marlinberg of Hammer- 
stein, Count Otto of. In a 
legend of Rosebach, 142-144 
Rhaetia. The province, 14 
Rheinfelden. The town, 6 
Rheinfels. A mountain, near 
St. Goar ; the habitation of St. 
Goar on, 174 

Rheingau. A district in the Rhine- 
country, 22 5 

Rheingrafenstein. The castle 
of; a legend of, 211-212 
Rheinstein. i. The castle of ; 
a legend of, 195-200. 2. The 

Lord of, 197-200 
Rheinwald Valley, 5 
Rheinwaldhorn. Mountain range ; 

the Nearer Rhine rises in, 5 
Rheinweinlied. A drinking song 
by Georg Hervegh, 89 
Rhenish Confederation. See 
Confederation of the Rhine 
Rhens. The town; the maiden 
Lorelei summoned before a court 
at, 62 

Rhine, The. Its powerful patriotic 
appeal, 1, 3-4, 81 ; its unique 
legendary association, 1-2 ; topo¬ 
graphy of the river, 5-7 ; early 


inhabitants of the Rhine-country, 
12 et seq. ; the frontier of 
Germany in the Middle Ages, 
42 ; its banks the seat of the 
highest German culture in the 
Middle Ages, 42 ; becomes the 
boundary between France and 
Germany, 51 ; character of the 
legends of, 59, 78-79, 179, 185, 
354 ; the poetry of, 81 ; the 
view of, from Heidelberg, 321 ; 
Byron’s address to, 355 

Rhine-country, The. Early 
inhabitants of, 12 et seq. ; the 
Romans in, 20-24 ; French en¬ 
croachments in, 51 ; the French 
lose their footing in, after the 
war of 1870-71, 51-52 ; the 

robbers of, 55-58 

Rhine-god. A river-deity; in 
the legend of the Trumpeter of 
Sackingen, 348 

Rhinegold. The treasure of the 
Nibelungs, 303. See Nibelungs 

Richard. i. Coeur-de-Lion, 168; 
the legend of his imprisonment 
in and release from Trifels Castle, 
337-340. 2. Earl of Cornwall ; 

a claimant to the German throne 
after the death of Conrad IV, 
and chosen Emperor, 181 ; in 
the legend of Gutenfels, 179-183 

Richberta. A maiden of Stavo- 
ren ; the story of, 8-12 

Richmodis. Wife of Sir Aducht 
of Cologne ; the legend of, 118- 
120 

Riguenbach. Henchman of Count 
Otto of Reuss-Marlinberg; in 
a legend of Rosebach, 142-144 

Rinbod. A pagan prince ; in a 
legend of the Drachenfels, 152- 
154 

Rivers. Sentimental regard for, 

1, 80-81 

Robbers of the Rhine, The, 55- 
58 

Roland. Charlemagne’s nephew ; 
and the Lady of Drachenfels, 
12 5-127 ; falls at Roncevaux, 
127 

Rolandseck. A castle on the 
Rhine, near Bonn, 133 ; in a 
legend of Roland, 125, 127 

Romance. The element of, pre¬ 
dominant in the Rhine legends, 
59, 78-79 



Romans, The. 

country, 20-24 
Rome. St. Ursula’s pilgrimage to, 
76 ; in the legend of the Trum¬ 
peter of Sackingen, Werner and 
Margaretha reunited at, 350 
Roncevaux. A gorge in the Pyre¬ 
nees ; Roland’s last great battle 
against the Moors at, 127 
Roon, Count von. The states¬ 
man, 4 

Rose Garden, The. A legend of 
Worms, 258-261 

Rosebach. 1. A village in the 
valley of Hammerstein ; a legend 
of, 141-144. 2. The castle of, 
142, 143. 3. The Abbey of ; 

story of the founding of, 144 
Roth, Count von. Governor of 
Pfalzgrafenstein ; in the legend 
of Pfalz, 185-188 

Rudesheim. The town ; its many 
legendary associations, 212 ; 
favoured by Charlemagne, 213 ; 
famous for its wines, 213 ; the 
legend of Minna of, 213-215 
Rudiger. Margrave of Bechlarn ; 
in the legend of the Rose Garden 
of Worms, 260; in the Nibe- 
lungenlied, his embassy to the 
Burgundian court to seek the 
hand of Kriemhild for Etzel, 
285 ; receives Gunther and 
Hagen on their journey to 
Etzel’s court, and accompanies 
them, 290 ; and the conflict in 
Etzel’s banqueting-hall, 293-294; 
slain by Gernot, 294 ; Dietrich’s 
lament for, 295 ; in the Klage, 

309. 3io 

Rudolph. A knight of Linz ; in 
a legend of Okkenfels, 155-158 
Russia. Combats the monopoly 
of the Hanseatic League, 50 • 
Ruthard. A smith ; in the legend 
of the Sword-slipper of Solingen, 
101-102, 104 

Ryswick, Treaty of. See Treaty 


S 

Sackingen. The town, 6; the 
legend of the Trumpeter of, 346- 
35i 

St. Clement. Church of; in a 
legend of Rheinstein, 198 


St. Fridolin. The festival of, 
celebrated at Sackingen, 347 
St. Goar. i. The town ; the 
haunt of the Lorelei near, 59 ; 
the habitation of the hermit 
St. Goar near, 174. 2. A hermit, 
174-176; at the court of Sige- 
bert, 174-17 5 ; the patron saint 
of hospitality, 175 ; Charlemagne 
at the shrine of, 176-177 ; 
Karloman and Pepin reconciled 
at the shrine of, 177-178. 3. The 
monastery of, 175 
St. Gotthard. Pass of, 5 
St. Peter. The Apostle, 227 
St. Peter’s. Cathedral at Rome ; 
in the legend of the Trumpeter 
of Sackingen, 350 

St. Ursula. Probably the Teu¬ 
tonic goddess Ursa, or Horsel, 
77 ; the legend of, 75-77 
Sand Gewirr. A dangerous eddy 
in the Rhine, 174 

Santen, or Xanten. The town ; 
in the Nibelungenlied, Siegfried 
and Kriemhild go to, after their 
marriage, 275 

Saracens. Mentioned, 213, 215, 
216 

Satan. In Rhenish legend, 78 ; 
in the legend of the Architect 01 
Cologne Cathedral, 106-108 ; in 
a legend explaining why Cologne 
Cathedral was never completed, 
iio-iii ; in the legend of the 
Fire-bell of Cologne, 113-114 ; 
as Master Urian, in the legend 
of the cathedral of Aix-la- 
Chapelle, 130-133 ; in a legend 
of Rheingrafenstein, 211-212 ; as 
the Yellow Dwarf, in a legend 
of Elfeld, 226-227 ; in a legend 
of Worms, 261-262 ; in the 
legend of the Klingelkapelle, 333 
Saxons, The. In the Rhine- 
country, 24 ; a story of Charle¬ 
magne’s wars with, 29-37 ; men¬ 
tioned, 248 ; Siegfried helps the 
Burgundians against, 269 
Sayn. A village; Kuno of; in 
a legend of Falkenstein Castle, 

233 - 2 3 6 . . 

Scandinavia. And the origin of 
the Nibelungenlied, 26 5, 298 
Schaffhausen. The town, 6 
Schams Valley. The Rhine flows 
through, 5 


Glossary & Index 

In the Rhine- 



Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


Schildmauer. A wall that stood 
between the castles of Lieben- 
stein and Sterrenberg, 171 
Schiller. The poet; influence of, 
upon German legends, 79 
Schloss. For castles, see under 
their proper names 
Schonburg. i. The castle of; 
the legend of the Seven Maidens 
of, 183-185. 2. The Graf von, 183 
Schonebeck. The town, 13 
Scott, Sir Walter. His ballad 
The Wild Huntsman, 68-73 
Sebile. In the Song of the Saxons, 
wife of Guiteclin, 30 ; falls in 
love with and is married to 
Baldwin, 31-32 ; meets her dead 
husband’s body, 36; enters a 
convent, 37 

Seebach. A town in the Black 
Forest; the legend of the nixie 
of, 66-67 

Segeric. Son of the Burgundian 
king Sigismund ; Siegfried identi¬ 
fied with, by Abeling, 307 ; and 
the historical theory of the 
origin of the Nibelungenlied, 308 
Seven Years’ War. Supposed by 
the people of Oppenheim to have 
been foretold by a gruesome 
apparition, 55 

Shepherd Knight, The. A legend 
of Florsheim, 244-248 
Siebengebirge. A mountain range, 
7 ; a legend connected with, 
i 33 _i 36; mentioned, 157 
Siegebert, Sir. A wealthy knight ; 
in the legend of the Shepherd 
Knight, 247 

Siegfried. In the Nibelungenlied, 
a prince of the Netherlands, 
son of Siegmund and Sieglind ; 
the full story of, not given in 
any of the versions of the 
legend, 267 ; wins the sword 
and treasure of the Nibelungs 
and overcomes Alberich, cap¬ 
turing his cloak of invisibility, 
268, 271 ; goes to Worms to see 
Kriemhild, 268-269 ; accom¬ 
panies Gunther to help him to 
win the hand of Queen Brunhild, 
and overcomes her in combat, 
270-273 ; the story of Brunhild 
and, in the Scandinavian versions 
of the legend, 270 ; typifies the 
springtide and the sun in the 

37 6 


Scandinavian myth, 270; the 
Sigurd of the Volsunga Saga 
equivalent to, 274, 299 ; again 
contends with Brunhild and 
defeats her, 274 ; married to 
Kriemhild, 275 ; arouses the 
resentment of Brunhild and 
Hagen, and is lured from the 
court on a pretext of war, 275- 
276; takes part in a hunting 
expedition and performs mighty 
feats, 276-280; his invulner¬ 
ability, save at one spot, gained 
by bathing in the dragon’s 
blood, 276; Kriemhild marks 
the vulnerable spot for the 
treacherous Hagen, 276; the 
plot for his destruction, 277 ; 
slain by Hagen, 281-283 ; called 
‘ Lord of the Nibelungs ’ after 
possessing the Nibelungen trea¬ 
sure, 284 ; regarded as a sun- 
god, 307 ; identified by Abeling 
with Segeric, 307. See also Sigurd 
Siegfried. A count of Ander- 
nach ; a legend of, 82-84 
Siegfried Spring. A spring in 
the Odenwald, 298 
Sieglind. i. In the Nibelungen¬ 
lied, mother of Siegfried, 268. 
2. One of the swan-maidens, in 
the Nibelungenlied-, warns Hagen, 
287-288 

Siegmund. Father of Siegfried ; 
in the Nibelungenlied, 268 ; in 
the Volsunga Saga, 299 
Sigebert. King of Austrasia ; 

St. Goar at his court at Ander- 
nach, 174-175 

Sigismund. King of Burgundy, 

307 

Sigurd. In the Volsunga Saga, 
a mighty warrior, equivalent to 
the Siegfried of the Nibelungen¬ 
lied, 274, 299 ; the story of, 299- 
303. See also Siegfried 
Solingen. The town ; the legend 
of the Sword-slipper of, 101-104 
Song of the Saxons. A romance 
of Charlemagne, 29-37, 248 
Sooneck. 1. Wilm von; in a 

legend of Fiirstenberg, 192-195. 
2. The castle of, 192-195 
Southey, Robert. The poet; his 
version of the legend of Bishop 
Hatto and the Mouse Tower, 
207-209 




Glossary 


Spessart. A mountain group ; 
mentioned in the Nibelungenlied, 
281 

Speyer, or Spires. The town, 50 ; 

a legend of, 326-327 
Spires. See Speyer 
Staufenberg. The castle of; a 
legend of, 333-337 
Stavoren. A town in Holland ; 

the story of Richberta of, 7-12 
Sterrenberg. The castle of; 
the legend of Liebenstein and’ 
84-86 ; a variant of the same 
legend, 171-174 

Stevenson, R. L. Mentioned, 55, 80 
Stolzenfels. The castle of; a 
legend of, 164-168 
Strassburg. The city, 20; seized 
by France, 51 ; the Dean of, in 
a legend of Windeck, 328-331 ; 
the astronomical clock of, 341- 
342 ; the legend of the Clock- 
maker of, 342-346 
Stromberg. A mountain; in a 
legend of the castle of Argenfels, 88 
Styria. The province; Dietleib 
of— see Dietleib 

Suevi. Early Germanic people, 23 
Sugambri. Early Germanic tribe,20 
Sunken City, The. The story of, 
7-12 

Swabia. The province, 161 
Swan-maidens. Of the Danube, 
in the Nibelungenlied ; Hagen 
and, 287-288 

Sweden. In the Thirty Years’ 
War, 50-51 

Swemmelin. In the Klage, Etzel’s 
fiddler ; bears the news of the 
tragedy to Brunhild and to 
Bechlarn, 309, 310 
Switzerland. The Rhine rises in, 5 
Sword-slipper of Solingen, The. 
The legend of, 78, 101-104 


T 

Tacitus. On the Teutons, 14, 
16-18, 19-20 

Tannhauser. Knight; imprisoned 
by Venus in the Horselberg, 78 
Taunus Mountains. The Rhine 
diverted by, 6; the castle of 
Eppstein in a valley of, 242 
Telramund, Frederick of. 
Knight, in the Lohengrin legend, 
93-95 


& Index 

Teutons. Drive the Celts from the 
Rhine-country, 14; Tacitus on, 
14, 16-18, 19-20 ; customs of, 
18; their regard for women, 18, 
costume of, 19; the tribes of, 
19-20, 23-24 

Thann. The town ; the steeple of, 
built with mortar mixed with 
wine, 324, 340 ; the legend of the 
Lying-field of, 340-341 
Theodoric. King of the Ostro¬ 
goths ; the original of Dietrich 
of Bern, 258 

Thidreks Saga. A Norse epic ; 
contains details related to those 
in the earlier versions of the 
Nibelungenlied, 298 
Thionville. The town; Charle¬ 
magne summons his sons to, to 
apportion his Empire among 
them, 177 

Thirty Years’ War. Effect on 
the Rhine-country, 50 ; a story 
of, 5 2 ~55 ; the Trumpeter of 
Sackingen fights in, 347 
Thomas the Rhymer. Scottish 
poet; his story fused with the 
legend of Ursula in the ballad of 
Thomas the Rhymer, 78 
Thuringen, or Thuringia. The 
state; Childeric exiled in, 25- 
26; mentioned, 247 
Thuringia. See Thuringen 
Tiberius. Roman general, after¬ 
ward Emperor • sent against 
the Germanic tribes, 22 
Titus. Roman Emperor, 227 
Toma. Lake; the Farther Rhine 
rises in, 5 

Tomleschg Valley. The Rhine 
flows through, 5 

Trajan. Roman Emperor, 227 
Treasure - seeker. The. The 
legend of, 136-137 
Treasurer. Archbishop Werner’s ; 
in the legend of the Alchemist, 
164-168 

Treaty. i. Of Basel; Prussia 
cedes to France her territory on 
the left bank of the Rhine under, 
51. 2. Of Luneville; France 

acquires the left bank of the 
Rhine under, 51. 3. Of Ryswick ; 
France gains territory in the 
Rhine-country under, 51 
Tremoigne. In the Song of the 
Saxons, Guiteclin’s palace, 29, 33 

377 



Hero Tales & Legends of the Rhine 


Treves, i. The city ; in a legend 
of Cologne Cathedral, 111. 2. The 
Archbishop of ; Sigebert and, 
175. 3. The see of ; offered to 

St. Goar, 175 

Tribacci. Early Germanic tribe, 
20 

Tribes. Early Germanic, 19-20, 
23-24 

Tributaries. Of the Rhine; the 
large number of, 6 
Trifels. The castle of ; the legend 
of Richard Cceur-de-Lion’s im¬ 
prisonment in, 337-340 
Truenfels. A place near the 
Oelberg; the legend of, 122-125 
Trumpeter of Sackingen, The. 

The legend of, 346-351 
Tulna. The town ; in the Nibelun- 
genlied, Kriemhild meets Etzel 
at, 285 

Turpin. Archbishop of Rheims ; 
in a story of Charlemagne, 39-40 

U 

Ubii. Early Germanic tribe, 20 
Udorf. A village near Bonn ; a 
legend of, 138-141 
Ulenthal, Sir Sibert. A knight ; 

in the legend of Truenfels, 122-12 5 
Ulrilda. A maiden ; in a legend 
of Falkenstein Castle, 238-239 
Urian, Master. Satan ; in the 
legend of the cathedral of Aix- 
la-Chapelle, 130-133 
Ursa. Teutonic moon-goddess, 

equivalent to Horsel ; St. Ursula 
identified with, 77 
Ursula. See St. Ursula 
Ute. In the Nibelungenlied, 

mother of Kriemhild, 267, 268 ; 
equivalent to the Grimhild of 
the Volsunga Saga, 274 ; in the 
Klage, 310 

Utrecht. The city, 7 
V 

Valerian. Roman Emperor ; and 
the Germanic risings, 23 
Valkyrs. In Scandinavian myth, 
the war-maidens of Odin ; Brun¬ 
hild one of the, 270, 300 
Vangiones. Early Germanic tribe, 
20 

Varus. See Quintilius 

378 


Vehmgericht. A medieval German 
secret tribunal ; in a story of 
Heidelberg Castle, 46-47 
Venus. The goddess ; identified 
with Holda, or Ursula, 78 
Via Mala Gorge. The Rhine flows 
through, 5 

Vienna. The city. 1. Congress of 
—see Congress. 2. In the Nibe¬ 
lungenlied, Kriemhild married to 
Etzel at, 285 ; Kriemhild in¬ 
duces Etzel to invite Hagen 
and her brothers to, 286 
Vingi. In the Volsunga Saga, a 
messenger; lures Gunnar and 
Hogni to Atli’s court, 304 ; slain 
by Hogni, 304 

Vionest. A legendary king of 
Britain, father of St. Ursula, 75 
Virgin Mary, The. In a legend 
of Mainz, 228-230; in a legend 
of Darmstadt, 253-255 ; in the 
legend of the Devil’s Vineyard, 
262 

Volker. In the Nibelungenlied, a 
Hunnish warrior ; slain, 294 
Volsunga Saga. The older, 
Scandinavian form of the Nibe¬ 
lungenlied legend, 305-306; the 
story of Brunhild and Siegfried 
is different in, 270 ; a summary 
of, 298-305 

Volsungs. A semi-divine mythical 
race, descended from Woden ; 
Sigurd a descendant of, 299 
Vosges. The mountain range, 6 ; 
the forest of, 315 


r W 

Waal. A branch of the Rhine, 7 
Wacht am Rhein, Die. The song ; 
its strong patriotic influence, 3 ; 
a story of Bismarck and, 3-4 
Wagner. The composer ; his 
version of the Lohengrin legend 
drawn from Wolfram von Eschen- 
bach, 92 

Waldshut. The town, 6 
Walhalla. The warriors’ paradise, 
in Norse myth ; in the legend 
of the Wolf’s Spring, 323 
Walls, Roman. In the Rhine- 
country, 21, 24 

Walpurgis-night. The night be¬ 
fore the 1st of May, supposed 



Glossary 


to be the occasion of a witches’ 
festival, 263-264 

Walsdorf. The convent of; in 
a legend of Rosebach, 142 
Walthar. In Walthar of Aquitaine, 
son of Alphere; mentioned in 
the Nibelungenlied, 291 ; given 
as hostage to Attila, 311 ; escapes 
with Hildegund, 313; comes 
near to Worms, 314 ; Gunther’s 
party meets, 315; fights with 
Gunther’s knights and defeats 
them, 316; fights with Gunther 
and Hagen, 318-319; wedded 
to Hildegund and rules Aqui¬ 
taine, 319-320 

Walthar of Aquitaine. The 
epic ; Worms the locality of, 
258 ; connexion of, with the 
Nibelungenlied, 292, 311; the 
story, 310-320 

Walthar of Spain. The same 
as Walthar of Aquitaine. See 
Walthar 

Walther. i. Minna’s lover; m 
a legend of Riidesheim, 214. 
2. A knight of Birbach ; in a 
legend of Darmstadt, 253-255 
Wampold, The Lord of. In the 
legend of the Maiden’s Caprice, 
263 

Wampolder Hof. A manor-house 
in the town of Worms ; in the 
legend of the Maiden’s Caprice, 
236-264 

War of the Palatinate. Affects 
the Rhine valley, 50 
Water-nymph of Staufenberg, 
The. The legend of, 333—337 
Water-spirits. The Lorelei, 5.9- 
65 ; the nixie, 65 ; the legend 
of the Nixie of the Mummel-lake, 
66-67; the legend of the Watef- 
nymph of Staufenberg, 333-337 
Weapons. Ancient German, 17 
Wedenschied. A pastor of ; in 
a legend of Fiirstenberg, 192 
Wein von Orleans. A wine for 
^vhich Riidesheim was famous,213 
Wenzel (Wenceslaus). German 
Emperor ; said to have sold his 
crown for wine, 324 
Werner, i. Archbishop of Falken- 
stein, owner of Stolzenfels ; in 
the legend of the Alchemist, 164- 
168. 2. The Trumpeter of 

Sackingen, 346-3 51 


& 1 Index 

Westphalia, Peace of. See Peace 
of Westphalia 

Westrich, The. A mountainous 
region near Mannheim, 244 
White Horses, The. A legend of 
Cologne, 118-120 
Wiesbaden. The city, 6, 20 
Wild Huntsman, The. The 
legend of, 68 ; the Huntsman is 
equivalent to Odin, 68 ; Sir 
Walter Scott’s ballad, 68-73 
Wilenstein. The castle of; in 
the legend of the Shepherd 
Knight, 244 

Wilhelm. Ruthard’s apprentice ; 
in the legend of the Sword- 
slipper of Solingen, 102-104 
William of Holland. King of 
Germany ; in the legend of the 
Magic Banquet, 120-121 
William I. King of Prussia; 
proclaims the restoration of the 
Rhine provinces, 51-52 
Windeck. The castle of ; legends 
of, 328-331 

Wine. Worms noted for, 261 ; of 
Worms, a legend of, 261-263 ; 
common in Rhenish legend, 324 ; 
the steeple at Thann built with 
mortar mixed with, 324, 340 
Winomadus. Friend of King 
Childeric, 25, 26 

Witches’ Sabbath. An annual 
nocturnal meeting of witches and 
demons ; in a legend of Aix-la- 
Chapelle, 128 

Woden. Supreme deity, in Scan¬ 
dinavian mythology, the same 
as Odin; the Volsungs descended 
from, 299; in the Volsunga Saga, 
advises Sigurd regarding his en¬ 
counter with the dragon Fafnir, 
299 ; the spell laid upon Brun¬ 
hild by, 300, 301. See also Odin 
Wolf. A bell-founder; in the 
legend of the Fire-bell of Cologne, 
112-114 

Wolfhart. A knight at the 
court of JDietrich of Bern, 259 ; in 
the legend of the Rose Garden of 
Worms, 261 ; in the Nibelun¬ 
genlied, slain by Giselher, 294 
Wolfings. A company of warriors 
associated with Dietrich of Bern ; 
in the Nibelungenlied, 285 
Wolfram. Herzog von Bergen- 
dorf ; a legend of, 133-136 


379 




Hero Tales @P Leo-ends of the Rhine 


Wolfram von Eschenbach. Medi¬ 
eval romance-writer; his Parzival 
the source of a version of the 
Lohengrin legend, 92 
Wolf’s Spring, The. A legend 
of Heidelberg, 321-324 
Women. Regard for, among the 
early Teutons, 18 ; the pre¬ 
servers of the ancient Teutonic 
magico-religious lore, 18-19 
Wonderful Road, The. A 
legend of Falkenstein Castle, 233- 
236 

Worms. The city; the locality 
of the N ibelungenlied and of 
Walthar of Aquitaine, 258, 264, 
310-311 ; the legend of the Rose 
Garden of, 258-261 ; famous for 
its wine, 261 ; the legend of 
the Devil’s Vineyard, 261-263 ; 
the Wampolder Hof in, 263 ; 
the legend of the Maiden’s 
Caprice, 263-264; the Nibe~ 


lungenlied, 264-310 ; Kriemhild 
dwelt in, 267 ; Brunhild sets 
out for, with Gunther, 274 ; 
Walthar of Aquitaine, 310-320 


Y 

Yellow Dwarf, The. In the 
legend of Elfeld, 73, 225-227 
Yssel. A branch of the Rhine, 7 


Z 

Zahringen. The village ; in the 
legend of the Charcoal-burner, 

35 L 354 

Zuider Zee. A branch of the Rhine 
flows into, 7 

Zurich. The city; the scene of 
Charlemagne’s encounter with 
the serpent which gave him the 
wonderful gem, 37 



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